[My student was rushed to the hospital when he had a problem breathing. Shortly thereafter, he passed away. It destroyed all of us—except for a seedy preacher who wanted to garner more money from the grieving.
Another student decided to hold up someone with a gun she found. He took it from her and shot her twice in the chest. She died instantly.
A jealous man stabbed my third student. Why was he jealous? We'll never know. He confessed and went to prison. Her mother, in memory of her daughter, volunteered in my classroom.
We teachers sat in our pews as if we were statues supporting our students, their parents, the families of our school. We were at a loss at how to react to preachers who take advantage of the grief, preacher insanity, and preachers who feel a need to share their greed.
We teachers sat in our pews as if we were statues supporting our students, their parents, the families of our school. We were at a loss at how to react to preachers who take advantage of the grief, preacher insanity, and preachers who feel a need to share their greed.
Too often the weather was too perfect, a breeze off the lake, the temperature just right, and not a cloud in the sky.]
They hire a guest preacher to mourn him
And he cannot remember the name.
The oldest son no longer controls control
And the child’s teachers sit like snow
Melting quickly into puddles of incoherence,
Black ice, a winter’s sorrow.Outside,
A cruel blue sky, brilliant and malicious sunlight,
Just a touch of gentle cursed wind,
Air so light, it could not lift a weight in tears.
_______________
From my 2011 collection, I Was a Teacher Once & Other Philosophies, published by Ten Pages Press
| Copyright © 2022 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively. |
I think this eulogy of a poem describes something of itself in its lines “Just a touch of gentle cursed wind, / Air so light, it could not lift a weight in tears.” Michael, thank you for coming among us here and sharing your experiences and you art.
ReplyDeleteOnce again I marvel at the difference in your life and mine. When I was in school nobody ever shot anybody. A fistfight was big news. The worst that went on was a little pot dealing. To be a teacher in a city today it seems one must be a counsellor, policeman, referee and surrogate parent all in one.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your most kind words.
ReplyDelete