by John MacLean
Some say that all we see is all there is.
Paige sees her mother, though her mother died.
Paige smiles at Mom’s return, though having tried
To see with child’s patience what’s amiss
In grown up grief. She still can trust the air
Will hold the comfort of Mom’s silent smile.
At four, she lacks the judgment, or the guile,
To only notice fact and cry “unfair.”
But like a child that staggers up a beach
And feels the water sloshing from her pail,
She’ll head inland where all must learn to fail,
For no child’s gift drags memory past that breach.
And borne away from all a child knows,
She’ll only see what we see as she grows.
John MacLean has been a high school English teacher for 28 years. His book “If you Teach it They Will Read,” will be published by Rowman and Littlefield in August.