like a lost puppy
he waits every afternoon
hoping for some help
i enable him
wonder where his friends might be
knowing he has none
everyday struggles
of left-behind countries, wars
haunt my students’ lives
tomorrow, the same
i’ll give him the look; give in
heart too wrenched for no
i’ll carry work home
(not as heavy as his load)
pray peace will find us
extreme poverty
keeps parents from saving sons
live to work and die
but ten beats away
greed scalpels addicted souls
work to live and die
there is no measure
for a refugee’s story
it starts where yours ends
to gather the words
thick Asian-Afro-accents?
world peace in ears
just open your heart
your eyes your gut, God your soul
and you will hear them
bleeding through parties
drives across suburban hell
and comedy works
you will hear their cry
their mothers’ and fathers’ cries
and yes, you will cry
it’s the cry that springs
open the dead ache inside
oft named white privilege
please, measure their words
bring back those crossed continents
good Lord, bring them home
the aches and fevers
mid-week stay-with-me stresses
medicine won’t work
she came in a dream
all better (never better)
if only the truth
i hate trapped secrets
the solid weight of her truth
worth liquefying
they have stopped asking
bless the sick season for that
(she’ll be sick for life)
losing a baby,
making candy memories,
alcoholism:
all life sentences
that never bring forth the dream
that they’d imagined
pitiful attempt
to show the world justice
ditching the walkout
after school, they beg
for classwork i can’t explain
in four short minutes
but the ones who stayed
sit, work with me for hours
tackling learning
one interrupts us
asking where the food bank is
to feed his family
i’m taken aback
a perfect student, born here
why is he hungry?
then, the Taliban:
lost her mother in Iran
falling off a horse
social injustice
propels their failed walkout day
served up after school
a dish to take home
a harder bite to swallow
as schools save us all
challenging poses
stave off pre-holiday cold
virus can’t beat me
candy-scented home
bowls brimming with sugar dreams
homage to his mom
girls learn gift giving
how to think beyond themselves
wrapped in red ribbon
i’d wrap happiness
and place it under the tree
if it would save them
childhood rules us
far beyond its eighteen years
may theirs be happy
flooded by piles
poorly-written papers burn
insides of my eyes
my stalking student
piles breakfast, lunch, dinner
always needing help
close and lock the door
is what the experts tell me
what if that were me?
i bring home piles
that pile bags under eyes
and work in silence
quick pasta dinner
vibrant girls’ homework piles
i rush to the gym
breathe in, then breathe out
my body piles relief
yoga saves the day
i learned there’s no guilt
like the guilt of motherhood
my Tuesday lesson
tossing and turning
don’t turn remorse into gold
they make me feel old
whispers in the hall
worse than when i was in school
oh wait–i’m here. school.
we mock others’ pain
forgetting our own swallows
mixed up with sorrows
three deaths, intervention
wrap up semester’s longing
for life, a new life
we all want sunsets
bright red-circle memories
to bring back our youth
then we’d be in school
that captive institution
we couldn’t flee from
my Tuesday lesson:
mouth shut, sunsets disappear
mouth open, truth shines
post-holiday blues
hit harshly with shocking news
life is bought… and used
i want to reach her
change winter into summer
make her heart stronger
instead i break words
exchange lies for the absurd
to still what they’d heard
it is a mistake
the asked-for silence i break
lies i cannot take
they’ll still question me
my face burning by degrees
bring me to my knees
have i lost a friend?
or would this have been her end?
demons she will tend
on the other side
of the shadow where she hides
i’m still on her side
for oppressed women
suicide is the answer
to questioned love
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