Teach
by Carmen H Gray
I rushed to sort it all out: 14 years of 28 gone by
As 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
I sighed and I conjured up all that I’d taught
And little nuances that each of us brought
To this space confined between four walls
And even beyond that, into the halls
I heard the sniffles with tears, the children who needed healing
I also heard laughter, the “hello, Ms. Gray’s,” while excitedly squealing
I packed it all up-those sights and those sounds
I 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, the acorns, and where the leaves unfurled
This is where little hands created imaginary worlds
And I kept the sadness locked up, not revealing
When my son saw me and asked how I was feeling
So I told him the school, his school, was going away
I glimpsed at his face, the boyhood cheeks gave way
To a chiseled, grown up profile
He looked at me with a smile
Though still lost in my thoughts, and feeling distracted
He gently said,
“Mama, just think of how many lives you’ve impacted”
