she came to the room
I teach in
one she had sat in the year before
I was marking books
I asked her if everything was alright?
she said yes but started to cry
she is 11 years old
she has problems at home
she is a glass ball bouncing
between two brick walls
she is a fraying rope
in a tug of war
she is a piece of paper
being torn to bits
she is not under the illusion
that love lies behind it all
it is rivalry and hate
a power struggle
a game of chess and wills
she is a pawn
her heart is a kosovan refugee
her feelings are in east timor
looking for sanctuary
she knows war is never as far away
as it seems on the tv
I put my hand on her arm
to comfort her
all I can do
she knows I can do nothing else
college never prepared me for this
this wasn't on the schedule
she tells me those who are meant to love you
are often the ones who destroy you
and the pupil gives the teacher
a lesson
that unfortunately
he has already been taught
having resigned faith
in natural ability
I look to the stars
to spell out my path
to guide me
I find agreeable signs
like genial but imaginary angels
tenderly soothing
real apprehension
having found them
failing also
I clamber into the
closet of my mind
muster up a costume
to wear
fitting for the occasion
now they find me
showing myself
laid open
to their gaze
left in a solitude
they cannot
and wish not
to feel
alone
devoid of angels
or even wings
necessary
for flight