Never once did my pain feel like an inconvenienceÂ
something to be left at the classroom door, ignored,Â
or made into an extraordinary thing
You welcomed me with caring brightÂ
green eyes from across the roomÂ
as if saying I understand and you are safe hereÂ
a space you created for all of us to just be:Â
children learning about scienceÂ
Before today, I saw you through ten-year-old eyesÂ
when I became your student and entered class time
however I needed—in a wheelchair, clutching a walker,
carried to and from classrooms by my fatherÂ
Before I, myself, knew that you knewÂ
what it felt like to smileÂ
through an aboundingÂ
bone-deep-ache
what it takes to show upÂ
day after day
in a body on rebellionÂ
nobody can see, except
You did see me Â
and how I never saw your painÂ
is my mystery to keep, though
Today, I am only hereÂ
to say thank youÂ
for seeing me thenÂ
and letting me see you, now
My retired fifth grade teacher
a fellow warriorÂ
my friend
I look back and all alongÂ
you were simply guiding usÂ
to approach in kindness
and fairness the unsolvableÂ
life-altering equation of becoming