Fear could be a monster under your bed A scary movie Stuck in your head Fear could be trying something new The one opportunity That’s only up to you Fear could be no money in the account Bills to pay, mouths to feed But no dollar amount Fear could be not wanting to be alone
Setting Up A Classroom During A Pandemic Perhaps I’ll wipe down some textbooks, hardcover ones like Bones, Dog Man, Diary of A Wimpy Kid the ones kids read over and over, the ones they will protest being put in quarantine jail before someone else can read it again. Cleanliness, distance and time. Spacing between desks.
Waking Up To Changes Every other day was the same Until the opening of school came Now it was time to start a new game Its time to ignite like a flame Now it’s back to school We are going to follow a lot of rules In school, we are going to need a lot
School and Season Changes By: Raveena Duggal Walking into school, You feel a warm breeze, Everyone is wearing masks, Scared and yet excited. Students are back in routine, Their knowledge grows, Hand sanitizer is everywhere, The warm air turns cold, Snowflakes are falling, Students have lots of fun, Snow brings laughter, But soon flowers will
Restless night, I lie awake, jitters for what tomorrow brings Morning rush, a bite of food, not nearly enough to sink in A new dress and shoes, my book bag full, but I’m left empty still this time Will they see me as I want, or will I just blend in? New faces smiling, others
Essential Work What work is mine? Offering my full cornucopia, cut from leg of sacrificial lamb? Allowing my rounded fruit to be cupped squeezed, peeled bruising concealed? Resurrecting the ole iron lung, its dependable clatter, the work of being essential noise for those needing reminders of the sweetness of breathing on our own without effort.
From Pyre to Ash: A Teacher’s Duty I’m sorry but I can’t write a poem about going back to school. My pandemic mind is a closet with twenty years of chaos. Unkempt as it is, everything will fall. My job is to hoard piles of artifacts – the art of facts: the tests, markers and
Perceived through hazel eyes. Felt with every beat of your bleeding heart. Lessons taught with every bloom to closing chapter, turning petals in between. Checkpoints of soul’s journey. Insight mirroring truths for evolving essence. A flock of birds feathered with love, change, growth, gratitude. A travel holding you hostage, no direction or destination until you
shattered no one looks at her as she walks to school uniformed, books clutched to her chest passing cars, pedestrians see past her through her she is unremarkable she is scenery. each step to her destination an effort not to turn and run sheer force of will her only glue to hold together her plain
fledge each first day of school we stood beside you waiting for the yellow bus to take you there. we knew you would return our ache temporary. no more busses stop here today we stand beside your car packed with everything that is you this place no longer serves your dreams we each whisper unspoken