The Daughter’s Second Grade Teacher — who’s really really great — does this thing where she has a parent come in and read a story to the kids. It’s supposed to be surprise and you’re supposed to pick a book from your childhood.
Of course, I ignored half of that by picking two poems (i carry your heart with me by e.e. cummings and The Road Not Taken by Frost) and then writing one.
Listen, I’m no poet. I’m a sensitive bastard to be sure, but I don’t consider myself especially eloquent or unique.
Anyway, here’s the poem, which I titled “It is Time:”
Friends:
Gather here.
Open your hearts.
It is now. You are here.
Close your eyes.
It is time to learn, to feel, to love.
It is time to laugh, to cry, to wonder.
It is now. You are here.
Collect laughter and cultivate friends.
Like flowers, they are beautiful gifts.
Cherish tears and welcome grief.
Like a quiet pond, they can show us the truth.
It is now. You are here.
Open your eyes.
It is time to stand for justice.
It is time to fight for love.
It is time to speak your peace.
It is now. You are here.
Remember kindness and pay it back.
It is the one true currency of the universe.
Remember to watch and catalog experiences.
They are life’s one true teacher.
It is now. You are here.
Please hear that you are my evermore.
You are my gravity, my hope, my soul.
Because when my body fails, as it surely will,
I pray that you recall the million times, plus the last,
that I told you, “I love you.”
It is now. You are here.
It is time.