This ache,
this searching
how rawly
I feel your absence
Selfishly ignoring
your heart
reaching out
trying to connect
a lifetime of circling
without closing the gap
Ironic
illusion
of distance
This ache,
this searching
how rawly
I feel your absence
Selfishly ignoring
your heart
reaching out
trying to connect
a lifetime of circling
without closing the gap
Ironic
illusion
of distance
Teach the children to comply,
to learn by rote, to master
the art of performance
encourage them to control
the chatter, their fidgets
behave like little adults
so as adults they may
struggle for authenticity
confuse society with audience
forgo instincts for crowd
pleasing responses – wonder
at the innocence of children.
Used to be a teacher –
socially respectable –
graded papers, set
lesson plans, passed.
Now, locked out, I am
tossed like dirty laundry
heaped atop the sullied
citizen pile – a dirty,
tangled mess in need
of cleansing – those
indistinguishably ill
usurpers of public money.
Once, knew definitively
the standards set by
ministry guidelines,
curriculum based goals
now, am dispossessed,
mind lost, unable to focus
on details, angered by
trivialities, a nonentity.
How I miss the certainty
of rubrics, daily routines
set by hours of sweat –
sweet organization.
I am the student now,
submerged in this disarray
of emotional churning
unsolicited learning
environment in which
achievement is seldom
honored – no A’s awarded
for surviving life tests.
(Image: nutleywatch.com)