Naia Lee-Hendricks
Lafayette Park, St. John’s Church

At the barrier,
there was a man painting
not much older than me.
He painted his friends as they shouted,
but we could never forget their screams.

Behind me,
there was a girl with crutches.
Sixteen years old.
Her parents said it’s time to go,
but she didn’t want to.

By my side,
there were my friends.
Similar in age.
My friends said “but it is peaceful”,
but it didn’t matter.

In front of us
were lines of figures in combat gear.
They were too ambiguous to distinguish age.
They said nothing,
but advanced with their weapons anyway.

He watched them break his easel.
She watched them let her fall.
I watched them hurt my friend.

I saw him yell,
I saw her cry,
I saw him fall,
I saw the tear gas.

I never saw them again.

It was all for a picture with a bible.

I later learned his name was Hector.
My chance to learn her name was taken from me.