At a concert, the boys sat in the last row.
I stood behind, bouncing the sleeping baby.
The open door to the venue was at my back,
The assembled believers arrayed before me.
And I thought of friends in far countries,
Who wonder about security for their gatherings,
Wonder if this is the day that they show up
And face gunmen, intent on destruction.
Of course, attacks happen in America,
Though not usually for religious reasons.
I prayed for protection, then moved to the side,
So my baby was not the first target in sight.
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