Skip to content
February 4, 2013 / betweenstops

The Teacher


For close to three decades
I sat in his class
Once a week, off and on,
Mostly on
Even when I wasn’t there
I was there

Even though I knew
It was never about him

This teaching where I sat for years being told I didn’t exist
And that it is
Interconnected with no separate such

Even having seen the box lowered into the ground and I throwing my dirt on that box

Him having passed and
I knowing the teaching was never about him

It’s so comforting
now more than
ever to hear his voice


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: