Praying in My Classroom
Posted by magicalmysticalteacher
A pilgrim looking for miracles,
I move from desk to desk,
reading the notes my students scribble
in their composition books,
their tender words
crawling across the page like lizards seeking light.
One of them writes of how he swept the horse stalls
before filling them again with fresh straw.
One writes of cement gushing from the chute of a truck—
the foundation for the family’s new home;
another of an early morning walk with his flock of sheep
before the sun ignites Tsé Bit’ A’í and it becomes
a fiery winged creature rising from the desert floor;
another of the rusty nails that pierced both his heels
three summers ago
as he scampered across a pile of old lumber behind his hogan—
he says you can still see the scars;
still another of how she torments
her younger sister without mercy—
“There’s something cruel in me,” she writes,
“and it wants Kelsey to hurt, hurt, hurt.”
And I pray:
even the prophets were not blessed like this!
I am standing on holy ground.
Do not remove my feet from this place
now or ever.
© 2011 by Magical Mystical Teacher
Posted on August 7, 2011, in classroom, holy ground, Monday Poetry Train Revisited, my poetry, poetry, Postcards from Paradise, praying, students, teacher, teaching, The Poetry Pantry, The Sunday Whirl, writing. Bookmark the permalink. 17 Comments.
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