I Can't Do This

I can’t do this today

Peering through dirty windows at citizens hiding

behind shells made of unconvincing paper

Masking unspoken fears, unshaven faces, and unrealized hope

As I sip on day old coffee 

Listening to church bells ring meaningless summons

And politicians compete to weave the biggest lie

As the forgotten ones stand in lines separated by social space

To acquire food with borrowed money on borrowed time

From vendors looted the night before

Under the glow of burning cars, burning buildings, burning life

Streets filled with hate for brothers and sisters whose skin is

Darker, whiter, different

I can’t do this again

Sitting hour after hour

Watching, waiting

Alone

Behind broken memories

Wondering where you are

Everywhere I look

You are not there

I can’t do this 

They Called Him Teacher

                                                                             

They Call Him Teacher

The Word became flesh—

He could have been anything

A mighty warrior upon a great white stallion

A stalwart silhouette against the morning sun

A king adorned in fine purple robes 

With red rubies mounted on a crown of gold

Poised at the head of a boundless table carved in oak

Overflowing with delicacies from foreign lands

A rich man with Solomon’s treasure underfoot…

Rabbi

They beckon him

A name of honor

They sit upon the hills to hear his words

They crowd the streets to breathe his wisdom 

They touch his robe

They call him Teacher

She could have been anything

She sits upon an injured chair

behind the pinewood desk

Cold coffee and stale pastry scattered to and fro

Her dress dusted in chalk

Ill-matched shoes bite her feet

She came before the sun touched the sky

She will stay long after the children are gone

She could have been…

They call her Teacher