ORNA ROSS

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Sunday Poem: Teachers

I wrote this poem when sitting on a holiday apartment balcony in Malta, gazing at a far sea horizon that stretched towards home, as a blue twilight turned to black night, and wondering: why is it sometimes so hard for us to let go of surface vexations, small and large, and let life flow easy.

And noting how it is always easier, for me, when I stop and properly look to the sea.

Teachers

“Good student,” I say to myself,
“to grow in wisdom,
forget the toil that squeezes
your time tight.”
Take your lessons
from what shines through
when you've looked far enough
beyond the play of sunlight
creating shimmer on the seas.

“Good seeker,” I say to myself,
“to grow in gladness,
forgo the creed that squeezes
your thought tight.”
Make your prayers
from what you see
when you've looked long enough
at night's unfixable sights
through the light of distant stars.

May you be blessed with blessed teachers!