Teacher

In times

of good

and bad

I let nature

be my teacher.

 

One leaf

sways

as gently

as a summer song,

not so I can sing along–

but to remind me

that I belong

in these last pieces

of greenery,

they are not simple

scenery

they are our home

a good climb upon a hill

does more for me

than an hour in mass,

sings me back the source

layered in my own skin

not to spite religion

but society warms itself

on separation,

these leaves

that sway

sing songs of connection

of life

that will stand

long after we fall–

no human controls all.

 

Instead I open up

my window,

lean into the wind

and listen.

 

January 10, 2016

Confidence

“Are you a confident

being?” my teacher

asks of me,

my face approaching

a mirror I’d rather not see.

   

“Being of what?” I reply,

rapping the blackboard

my mind picks up chalk

and I write: “A tale

of confidence.” 

   

“It’s the story 

we need to hear,” I am told

on repeat, like a pop song

on the radio I want to repress

yet memorize and shout.

   

“Being,” 

I repeat.

“Being, me.”

   

The rap slows,

my mind stops,

and I start smiling. 

 

August 8, 2014