For my students, the ones
that click their pens like
the ones that can’t fit
all of their life into my classroom
For the soldiers in unpronounceable places,
their ability to do
what I did not, could not
for the wind and the words
and the open mouthed earth,
for those that came home
to banners, balloons, babies
to an empty gate and a
lost bus ticket
for the day after the parade.
For the teachers who can’t teach them
for the schools that can’t fit them
for the students who were soldiers,
I am trying to open the windows.
I am trying to fill this place with light.