
Teach
by Carmen H Gray
Fourteen years of 28 gone by
I piled more things to the side for goodbye
There wasn’t enough time to go through it all
I glanced at the artwork, left lonely on the wall
Sighing, I conjured up all that I’d taught
And the many nuances that each of us brought
To this space confined between four walls
And beyond even that, into empty halls
I could hear sniffles and tears; the children who needed healing
And laughter, the “hello, Ms. Gray’s,” while excitedly squealing
I packed it all up-those sights and those sounds
And headed outside to the gardens and grounds
Where the rosemary was named and the aloe was tended
Where the fig tree was climbed and fairy houses blended
Into the rocks and into the places where the leaves unfurled
This is where little hands created imaginary worlds
I kept the sadness tucked inside, unyielding
My son saw me and asked how I was feeling
I told him the school, his school, was going away
I glimpsed his face, the boyhood cheeks gave way
To a chiseled, grown up profile
He looked back at me with a smile
Though still lost in my thoughts, and feeling distracted
He gently whispered,
“Mama, just think of how many lives you’ve impacted”
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