9 months in a womb, and 9 months in a classroom crowded with
Pages of books, journals, and original thought.
Shared, turned in, torn, and eventually
Thrown away, right in front of my face because
They know.
In less than one month, our community ends.
Crayon missiles blast across the room, nearly missing my face.
Shouting, talking, shoving, and me
Reminding them to stop and THINK.
But they’re done, and I see it clearly,
Like the window that I’m staring out,
Wishing sunshine touched my arm instead of the glass.
While troves of girls circle round,
Chattering away their affectionate farewells,
Boys turn their eyes toward the ground,
Or transform into wild animals, loud, but unable to
Release even a silent goodbye.
Finally the bell rings, and bodies rush away,
Leaving hundreds of unsaid goodbyes and thank-yous floating behind them,
like papers drifting in the breeze.
Born into summertime and adventure.
New guardians will greet them in the fall,
Driving them towards understanding the subtleties of
Academia, life,and justifying their worldview.
And maybe, if they find a deeper strength within,
Goodbye will come easier next year.
– Michelle Price
Copyright © Michelle Price 2017
May be reproduced for educational purposes only.