As I stand here in front of you,
I can barely remember the words that I need to say.
I can barely feel my legs.
My hands are freezing.
My hands are shaking.
I can’t feel a thing.
Yet here I am... standing.

Today I am wearing my battle suit—
miles and miles of white fields of fabric
and underneath is a sea of navy blue.
This is what I wear when I enter the battlefield.
This is what I wear when I enter a war.

Even though the curtains, the clouds, the tables,
The trees, the windows, and the chairs
are well aware
that I’m no longer Interested in fighting.
And even if I already lost my will to fight,
here I am standing.

I am weak.
I am sensitive.
I am fragile.
I am naïve.
I am flawed
I am easily overwhelmed.
I’m a slow learner
I’m a coward
An anxious person
A failure; nothing but a failure
And a disappointment to everyone,
I’ve always been a disappointment

I am just a student.
I am but a piece of sponge to absorb;
comply, learn, read, and write…
even if it doesn’t feel right,
and even if I am not alright,
look at me.
I am standing.

In this world where there seems to be no light;
where the only goal is to survive,
and even if I die inside,
I will choose to fight.
I will choose to be a soldier.
I will choose to be a fighter.
For I chose to be a student
and I chose to be here… standing.

Presuming on your goodness,
Believing in your ability,
Perceiving you will not break me.

Willing to obey your instructions,
Hoping you will teach me,
Waiting impatiently.

A thirst for learning is a virtue,
E’en when paired with impatience,
right?

they say there is more to learn than not.
that children are the future.
shaping young minds is
most admirable.
working through ways
for a few hours
makes up for lifetimes without.
the gift of knowledge
makes all the difference.

it is not our place to
tell them how to be.
we can only show them

Walking up the hill
To my destiny.
Rain falling on my body
To my soul.
  
Will any human share
Its umbrella with me?
Will any car stop
To offer me a ride?
  
Patiently Waiting,
While keeping moving on
All by myself.
Only my body will become
Stronger than ever before.
  
Patiently Waiting,
While keeping moving on
All by myself.
Only my mind will become
Stronger than ever before.
    
Cold rain
Falling on my warm body.
I'm melting the ice
Inside of your souls.

Burst into tears for no reason,
Except the girls in my class are
******,
Rude,
Unpleasant,
Judgemental,
Apathetic.
Burst into tears for no reason,
Except there’s a lot going on at home,
I’m not sleeping,
I’m struggling with money,
My Grandma has gone,
There’s no internet escape.
Burst into tears for no reason,
Except I do not feel well,
My stomach is in knots,
My brain throbs inside my head.
Burst into tears for no reason,
Except I’m overwhelmed,
With work,
And uni prep,
New classmates, classrooms,
And societies to join,
Friends to meet.
Burst into tears for no reason,
Except all of this is going on.
All at once.

Faintly, faintly, I’m beginning to hear you.
“Teacher” is what I call you, and what you are to me.
“Teach me.” No matter where I may be
my identity will apparently always be
“The Student” and I, like an actor given a role,
play it.

Quietly, a pair of eyes gaze sponge-like
at your catalogue of lessons,
trying to erase the body —
— which is too loud, too needy,
too everything —
and try not to let you be drowned out
by my dreams, my ideas, my expectations.
What are you saying now?

Something about… my own powerlessness?
Not the throngs of swans and the songs of the dawn?
Instead, prolonged wrongs and the dawning sense
that I don’t belong here?

No! No, that can’t be the lesson.
I am too natural, too sky-edged.
I’m too much the daughter of moss,
too akin to the hanging lichen that drapes ghost-like off the trees
and too free, heart up against the sea.
In short, too me.

But this means nothing to you.
I have to go quiet again, stop filling in the blanks
with words and more words. Recalling my role,
I listen for a lesson.

(And this is the first lesson I learn:
“Be Quiet And Listen”)

She sits in a
Cafe with her
Laptop open to a Page.
Plate empty with Crumbs
Coffee almost finished.
She ordered
a Cappuccino
not a Latte
wanting to watch her Weight
just in case

She planned for this Time
where she could wait for
Inspiration to strike. It hasn't Yet.

Ignoring her Needs
to finish that Paper
those Problems
take those Notes from the day she missed Class.

So this Window of Time
could be here
with the remainder of her Cappuccino growing cold
So she could be a Writer
and not a Student
a Worker
for this Window of Time

Yet now
it seems worthless
to schedule for Now
when the Inspiration still has
Yet
to Strike

person feels a wave of heat through their neck and face when struck with a thought of their ex boyfriend. a ninth grader gives them a ***** look. person leans against a cold cinderblock wall and relaxes their face. focus on the empty space between the eyeballs and the brain. feel the limp arms and identify the beat of a pulse running through them. repeat after me: self care is boring.

paul laurence dunbar knows why the caged bird sings. he never wanted to be an elevator operator. it's a point of privilege. person asks a ninth grader if a bird could see the wind, the river, the sun. "oh... no..."

one thing person notices time and again is that when these students drop something they do not pick it up. they let someone else do it. where person is from it is not like that. students would not help person like that, they think.

person remembers one time, when they themselves were in the ninth grade, dropping their lunchbox in a crowded hallway and picking it up swiftly in the next step without slowing down. a tall boy behind them said "smooth". person felt proud at the time. person feels good remembering this.

The youth have charged us by storm
You soul is soft, weathered, yet tough.
Even though the thread is thin
We hold tight with a fatal grip.
After prolonged, inevitable erosion
It would make sense to simply let go.

To paint the line we’ve created
A string must measure the length
Of how much time it’s been
To find the end of the string
Is one no soul keeps in mind.
All we unconsciously ache for
Is the end of the line.

How sad that is.