On March 24th, 2018 I participated in the March For Our Lives in Boston, Massachusetts. I remember being there, holding up a sign I got from someone handing them out and feeling like I was out of place. I was surrounded by a sea of people, ranging from young to old, holding up their handmade signs. And even as I was walking among them on the streets and chanting back the words they were saying, I still didn't feel like I belonged there.

Maybe because my reasoning for doing it in the first place was selfish. I made a bucket list of things I wanted to do and experience and participating in a march was one of them. I felt ashamed that I would choose something like that now looking back because we shouldn't have to worry about organizing these marches all over the country in the first place.

Ever since the Stoneman Douglas High School shooting this past February, there has been plenty of debate on enforcing stricter gun control laws. Normally I'm not one for stating my opinions on something so controversial, but being apart of this march and movement has changed my mind. So, I wrote this poem to bring up the reasons why I marched and to say that enough is enough and we need to see a change before more people get hurt.

Enough Is Enough

Saturday, March 24th, 2018

Boston, Massachusetts

I stood in a crowd

with youths and elders

holding up their signs

and screaming back the words

that everyone could hear

who was willing to listen.

As we marched along

the familiar streets

my eyes welled up

not from the bitter cold

or the pain in my legs

but from the people

in front and back of me

who kept on marching

and the people on the sidelines

cheering us on.

It was in that moment

I knew we were a movement

who was going to change the system.

And because of that, I marched.

I marched for the ones

whose lives were cut too short

but are now smiling down from above

as they see their lives being remembered.

And a change being made.

I marched for the ones

whose words were silenced

and buried with them

six feet down in the dirt.

I marched for the ones

who fear walking into school.

A place that I remembered as being safe

is now considered a war zone.

I marched for the teachers

who instead of being armed with pencils

are told to arm themselves with guns instead.

I marched for the lives of people

who don't get talked about

on the news

or on the front page

of a newspaper.

I marched for the people

who aren't doing anything

to change the system.

Who would rather see more people die

then change a law.

I marched for the survivors

who ran for their lives

and did whatever they could

to not get shot.

I marched for the survivors

who are now changed forever

from what they witnessed

but yet still fight for a change.

I marched for the survivors

because they are the brave ones

who instead of hiding

came together

and brought this march to life

to fight against the man.

I marched for them all

and I would do it again

because as my legs became numb

and my hands turned red from the cold

from marching the two miles

I continued to move forward.

To the ones who have lost their lives

due to gun violence

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that nothing got done.

But we're not done fighting.

I have a dream

that enough is enough

and I will live to see it come true.