For my students, the ones
that click their pens like
a detonator
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.
1 comment:
beautful
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