Let Them

Hannah H

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Let the children sing. Let toddler voices trill the dangers of road rage. Let little lungs blast admonitions to “keep your hands off your phone if you want to get home”. Let every grocery bagger, every day care attendant, every librarian cringe at the psalm of caution. Let the children speak. Let grade school children bear pamphlets, urging parents to eliminate driving distractions. Let slight frames reenact scenes of folly-driven death and prudence-driven breath, their audiences both hesitant and eager, fearful and firm. Let schoolyard to courthouse echo with the chant of budding resolve. Let the children show. Let near-grown intellects share with other, lesser intellects the dire facts needed to arouse diligence. Let aspiring artists paint, would-be educators teach, and striving actors demonstrate the truth behind the tragedy. Let a small hand hold a smaller one, escorting it across the runway of ruin. Let the people hear. Let parents and guardians, teachers and friends, neighbors and janitors pause and ponder. Let administrators and doctors, grandparents and mailmen, cashiers and conductors hear and heed. Let every creature who loves a child show them that affection, that devotion, that revere through their commitment to keep them alive. Let the children sing. Let them speak. Let them show. And let us listen. Let us learn. Let us love.