God Forbid

By Kate Disher

"God forbid" spoken like a whisper of breath on the wind,
But where was the wind when we all fell silent?
Driving with my father in the passenger seat.
He reads the dreaded email.
"School is cancelled," he says.
And as the words "bomb threat" leave his mouth
I feel
this heart--not mine--beating.
This breath--not mine--constricting.
It cannot be mine.
How can it be?
When I go to the school with the police directing traffic in the morning?
When violence is only a theoretical thing that happens on the news?
That school was unlucky. Mine could never be.
Until it is.
"God forbid," yet another boy says as I tell him my story.
But where was that revulsion when it was himself committing the same sin?
Where was the disgust? The revile? The "I'm so sorry that happened to you."
It disappeared into the folds of his own greed.
There's no amount of "stop" or "no" or "get off" that can stop him.
But, yes, let them begin with the "God forbid."
We know that there is no forbiddance to stop it.
To stop anything.