Sunrise

When I wake up in the morning,

The very first things my eyes see as they open

Is a blue like an aged Forget-Me-Not.

My mind is a blank slate, hardly able to be written on

Until the first words comes out of my mouth.

“Good morning,” I say,

Not to my mother or my dog or my cat,

But to the people for whom I arrive to school an hour early for.

To the people with whom I share a deep passion for song.

To the people that without whom my life and person would be astonishingly different.

They are why I greet the sun when it rises long after me

Every single morning.

 

As the day drags on I attempt to teach a class of high school sophomores

The meaning of the word “beautiful.”

It is not green eyes over brown

It is not a skinny girl over a hefty girl

But rather...

It is an aged couple with love in their eyes

Skipping in happiness and still tender touches

Being loyal to the same person for 50 years.

It is the color of the sky just before sunrise

When the world is muted and still and all you can hear

Is the smooth sound of your own soft breathing.

It is a mother holding her newborn child for the first time

Wondering how something so precious could come

From her.

This beauty is why I greet the daytime with a smile in my heart

As bright as the sun just peeking out to warm the snow.

 

The school day is over but I have yet another class,

Longer than any of the others and a million times

More stress than many other students know.

The school play slowly takes form here and I realize

They don’t call it “drama” for any old reason.

Yet, when it finally comes to an end and I finally leave the school

This class is one of the ones I will remember for being exceptional.

The passion is palpable.

The people are admirable.

The memories are unforgettable.

I have yet to feel what family truly is until I walk through that door.

These are my brothers, my sisters, my mothers, my fathers, and my children.

They are why I embrace the end of my day with hope

Even when all I want is to go home with the rest of the school.

 

I brush my teeth, put my PJ’s on, and get into bed.

It’s so comfortable I could never leave and be perfectly content,

And for a while I think I might do just that.

Until I reflect on my day.

I have struggled through six classes, all equally

Taxing and unfathomably frustrating.

Yet

I have the greatest teachers I could ever ask for.

Teachers willing to support my dreams,

Help me when I am not understanding a subject,

Teachers willing and happy to watch me soar.

I have incredible people I get to share my day with.

People I consider to be the best of friends,

People that encourage my creativity,

People that inspire me to be a better person.

I have jobs to do that I enjoy doing.

I have jobs to do that I don’t enjoy doing.

I have an entire world of possibility

And probability

And hope.

This world that makes me better.

This world that makes me stronger.

This world that makes me want to greet the day ahead.

With arms open enough to receive anything it throws at me.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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