But changing the subject completely — today is Poetry Friday!! And for the second week in a row, I'm actually finding time to participate. :)
Now one of my favorite movies to do schoolwork to is Freedom Writers. It's one of those movies, that I can just let run — i.e. it gives me background noise. I don't really sit and watch it, but it does always seem to help my productivity when I'm attempting to grade papers or do lesson plans. I think it works, because there's certainly parts of Erin Gruwell (the teacher) who I can relate to. She puts her students first, works very long hours and wants the best for them, even when it means putting everything else in her life on a back-burner -- and, for better or for worse, that can describe me pretty often too. Her belief in her students' voices being important and that they have stories to share, definitely matches my philosophy also.
So when I started thinking of what poem to share this week, my mind somehow began to think of Erin Gruwell's students — the Freedom Writers (yes, this probably is a big sign that I've been doing way too schoolwork recently). So, last night before I went to bed, I picked back up my copy of the The Freedom Writers Diary (the book that inspired the movie) and started flipping through it. What I ultimately opened to was the following poem — a poem Erin shared with her students, and one which I've now decided to make my poetry Friday contribution for this week...
Moment by Vincent Guilliano
Let him wish his life
For the sorrows of a stone
Never knowing the first thread
Of these
Never knowing the pain of ice
As its crystals slowly grow
Needless pressing in on the heart
To live forever
And never feel a thing
To wait a million lifetimes
Only to erode and become sand
Wish not for the stone
But for the fire
Last only moments
But change everything
Oh to be lightning
To exsist for less than a moment
Yet in that moment
To expose the world to every open eye
Oh to be thunder
To clap and ring
To rumble into memories
Minds and spines
To chill the soul and shake the very ground
Pounding even the sand
Into smaller pieces
Or the mountain
Brooding, extinct
Yet gathering for one fatal moment
The power to blow the top clean off the world
Oh to last the blink of an eye and leave nothing
But nothing unmoved behind you
You can check out more poetry over at this week's round-up. It's hosted by The Blog with the Shockingly Clever Title this week.
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