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
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