6/16/11
shining skin
cheeks damp with tears that trace years down young faces
sun glints on windows under sad smiles and hands waving fiercely
furrowed brows, squinting lashes hold floods back tenuously
some proud, for the first time, to look on each other with unadulterated joy
a physical barrier grows up between those on the bus moving away
from books and bar graphs and behavior slips, beyond the fence,
out in the open now. Vulnerable
to the sun, to each other’s eyes, to the pulling
the pain of a three-month separation visible on each face
the taste of electric current, the connecting cord so taught and tangible that it buzzes
broken suddenly when the last bus disappears around the corner.
A catharsis of applause breaks the spell, and finally they can turn back
to the building, left in ruins, to heal, to steel their hearts for the boomerang.
i’m terrible at analysis.
i forget to differentiate means and ends.
i don’t set smart goals.
i don’t deal in measurable results.
i don’t feel in a way that shows yearly progress
but my feelings progress; my heart is full to bursting
and the task at hand feels insurmountable: release responsibility.
i cannot drop the weight, i cannot let go from a hug that has the power to suffocate.
what will they do next year? where will i go?
i cannot leave them.
it’s not about me, luckily. things aren’t fine, but they have the possibility to be better.
if my time here left them one thing, i hope it was to help paint one day new, with a sky where the sun is coming up.
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