27. when we can- repeat

Dear T,

Let me say it again, just one more time, while I still can.

Dear Teacher, to me, you were always an ocean-bridler.

Dear Teacher, you were always running out of time in class.

Dear Teacher, you never stayed in the room if I was in the middle of undress. You preferred to avert your gaze kindly when I was rocking under duress.

Dear Teacher, you asked only to see me already stripped. You asked only to see me in my brightest blue best.

Dear Teacher, you were a serpent-charmer, hypnotic to your core, I stayed shaking my head because you were shaking yours.

Dear Teacher, you were a joke-maker, a riddle-teller, a quiz-competitor, your grin catching on easily, catching on my heart and my memories and other such hooks.

Dear Teacher, you were a music-player, your hands nearly as small as mine, rolling off strings of complex chords like they were nothing, taking me to your basement to listen, telling me my beat gave you inspiration, telling me that I think I might like this and this song, telling me to belt out when I play, to over-shoot rather than under-do, to make each set of notes mine.

Dear Teacher, you were a law-imposer, never letting me let on that I was shy and scared, cornered by my own lack of courage. When I laughed in embarassment, I hated how you turned my desk to face the back wall. You gave me no way out. I looked at it blankly, collecting myself grudgingly. You stood by my side, telling me to focus, telling me to go in there and undress, telling me to get on my hands and knees, telling me to take it, telling me to squeeze, telling me to tell you. Tell you.

Dear-Teacher, you failed me sometimes, but you were better than most, you were still a praise-giver, a patience-bidder, a faith-enforcer, a wonder-watcher, a pride-taker, reminding me gently when I forgot, that I could, that I was strong, that I could take it deep, that I could say what I wanted, that my words were worth reading, that my breath was worth hearing, that my body was worth taking, that I myself was worth a second glance.

Dear Teacher, I would be worried if it was just me, that I was putting you up too high in my sky-thoughts, but I know that to many of us, you were our dream-grower and our magic-worker. To me, you were always my ocean-bridler.

Dear Teacher, all I can say is thank you.