April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain...
Creativity, or the organization of new thoughts and ideas has never been easy for me. I often felt I had good ideas, but the production, expression, and presentation of them was fraught with anxiety and my impatience with the process. I was a good reader and a poor speller. My writing could never keep up with my train of thought and, rather than track the idea, I found myself stuck on a word I couldn’t spell. Consequently, I frequently lost the idea. It wasn’t until much later as a teacher, that I could slow down and value the process. I taught, and continue to teach many students that are brighter than I ever was. I was probably at my best as a teacher went I could introduce an idea and then get out of the way. So, in that spirit here are some ideas.
In a crowd of his peers
Yusuf the tallest eighth grader
rose like an obelisk
stone and symbolic and
coded and misunderstood
by those that only see him
as a random spike
in the town square
he wanted to know
our thoughts on religious freedom
he wanted to know
if we’d ever had porkchops
hurled at our windows
if we’d ever had paper tacked
to our Mosque door
where the A in Allah
a tent
a home of warmth and respect
had been turned to missile-head
he wanted to know
what he should do
and I wanted to say
to Yusuf the tallest eighth grader
with legs of a grown man and
heart of anything but
I wanted to say to him
so much
so much
wanted to say
sweet child
sweet child
don’t cry
don’t worry
the world is yours
but I could not tell him
to just be thirteen
I could not tell him
a lie
Thanks for following. Until next week.