We stand at a place where justice meets grace.
In the thousand-thousand words we share and hear,
Constant mystery lingers from ear to ear.
Is it wrong, what I said?
The mark I gave, the essay I saved, the student whose song
I let reign today?
The questions we ask lean in towards answers,
And the answers we hear
Are echoes of the souls within the stories.
They are you.
They are me.
They laugh at the off-beat themes,
Cry at the agony, grow wide-eyed at the dreams.
At our best, we are momentum itself--
Staggering forward without a water-break, destroying the fake.
At our worst, we clutch faith like a flame,
Burning ourselves again, and again, and again.
Somewhere in between lies both the promise and the present.
We, teachers, merge the two.
We make something whole even as its blinding holes
Blink back at us.
We, teachers, every day shut our eyes against what was and
Make something new.
