She said I don’t know what to do
I don’t think I can make it.
Maybe I should just give up
I told her
On this day is the beginning of the end.
We who inhabit this consecrated place at the rising of the sun
Are a remnant, a brave remnant, for a fate we never chose
Although we are chosen
So we can enter a profession to always serve.

We remnant, this only remnant, we must persevere
Because we who go to the throne-room of seats for this exam
Seating King Arthur never beheld by rounded tables in all his days of chivalry
Shall all be brethren, whose collective tears shall make triumphant waters.
One day we dare to dream to sign our names
With new tears in our eyes
With new smiles on our lips
That the passage of time and test could not scrape off.
The joy in all is everlasting
If we cannot speak others will utter pronouncements on our behalf
And esquire is now our last name
Because strength was our first prerogative

Those who whispered forsaken words behind our faces
Will now not look us in our eye
Because then they will see themselves.
And consider themselves lacking.
Because what they said we could not do.
Happened on this day of our reckoning
Admittance day

When we wake again
Our profession will deem us welcomed.
On this last requirement. an action so lowly as a signature
Grasped by fingers shaky but not shaken.
That scribble is blessed
Because we would have toiled this examination season.
And at the end we cannot  be considered wanting
But wanted.
She wiped a tear from her eye and said, Thanks I needed to hear that.
Then we got to work.