I call myself a Teacher
but today,
the horse called me
Observer.
~~
It said, stand back.
Watch how I gather
unruly energy
and place it,
quiet, but white hot
in their bellies.
~~
Watch how I pluck
unintelligible words from the air
and make them clear.
~~
Opaque hearts,
now transparent.
Inscrutable eyes,
open.
~~
Observe, teacher,
how I take the shy
the loner
the heartbroken
the sad
and lean into them –
filling the dark holes,
demanding presence.
~~
Making them forget for a moment
their cuts
their violence
their hunger.
~~
And so, today, I am not a teacher.
Like Amos,
“I am not a prophet,
nor am I the son of a prophet,
but I am a herdsman,
plucking wild figs.”
~~
I’m gathering their stories.
Hold out your hand -
I’m giving them to you.
Amazingly well said! I find it hard to put words to the experience. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Chris! And thank you for being you.
How wonderful! Brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for sharing this!
Aw, my pleasure! Thank you, Belinda!
You are so eloquent with your words! Thanks for sharing
Thank you for reading! xoxo