A Seat Taken, A Spirit Kept

O classroom once alive with gentle voices, Where morning greetings bloomed so bright and clear, I leave you now—stripped of certain choices, Unheard, unseen, dismissed through quiet fear. The silence came—a shadow down the hall, Erasing names without a single word. No answer rose to break the rising wall, No hand reached out, no empathy was stirred. The leader’s crown slipped heavy from her brow, Her heart shut tight, her words grew sharp and thin. She silenced me—no reason, no end vow— As though I never truly had been in. The seats were shifted, voices reassigned, My name erased like chalk at end of day. Yet still I held the children in my mind— Their laughter lighting up my fading way. No grace was shown in hardship or in strain, No hand extended in my time of need. Just quiet exile and unspoken pain, A glowing ember starved of light to feed. And still within this grief, a truth I find: Though bruised, my dignity does not depart. Though shadows press, they cannot touch the mind Or dim the quiet flame that burns in heart. Farewell, sweet classroom—may your walls now hear The echoes of respect, the sound of care. And may those who still lead one day draw near To build with love—a space just, kind, and fair.