Hold my hand
A little tighter
Dear grandson
As we kneel
At the edge
Of the pit
These gunshots
They are real.
For your five years
I have loved you
Protected
And adored
But my begging
And my pleading
By extremism
Is ignored.
My hand I place
Across your eyes
Softly voice
Do not be afraid
Before this madness
Can be stopped
I will sing a lullaby
In a better place.