Manchester, 2017

I am watching Netflix,

or drinking coffee at work,

or buying milk in the supermarket,

when the disaster unfolds

like the worst origami.

Someone walks into an arena,

an airport, a crowd,

and blows himself up.

Like radiation from

Hiroshima or Chernobyl,

the grief swallows us whole.

And like exposure to radiation,

it is so easy to crumble.

I am only 23 years old,

which means I have seen

too much and not enough

of this world.

You see,

I was only a seven year old girl

in a classroom

when two planes crashed

into two towers

on the other side of the world.

I don't remember that day

but now, it's taught

in history classes.

And on the other side of town,

my nephew is sleeping

and I hope he will sleep

through all this hurt.

But years from now,

he may learn about this day

in a history lesson

and he may even ask me questions

because I am an adult.

Because he'll think

I’m brave

and he’ll think

I know everything.

But I’m not and I don’t.

So instead,

I’ll tell him that we didn’t crumble,

That people helped,

That hope spread through the world

Like ripples from a stone in a pond.

Tomorrow,

The sky will be blue

And we will still be searching

For grown ups who have all the answers,

But we will have hope.