Tell the Teacher
Read these words,
no Not ‘these’ words,
read the words
that are laid to rest
under a thorny bush.
See how they emerge
to eat the spikes and burrs
become this life of yours?
Tell the teacher
the one with the gray heart,
tell that teacher
you have known all his words before
and they are now buried
under a briar patch
hidden from the light.
From barb and thistle
your own words shall flower;
they will utter a wisdom
only the wounded may know.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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