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February 4, 2013 / betweenstops

The Teacher

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For close to three decades
I sat in his class
Once a week, off and on,
Mostly on
And
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
all
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

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

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