The life of a teacher never ends and report cards are due tomorrow for all 450 ish of my students, so my time has been maxed out today. I always promise myself to transcribe my old school pencil grades into the electronic gradebook earlier than the week grades are due, but alas, I cannot seem to learn my own lesson.

So here I sit, tired, wanting sleep so badly, fighting off a virus on some sort, and desperately wanting to keep up my writing streak for NaPoWriMo. The poem below is one I have written and revised earlier, but it satisfies me to publish it today for you to enjoy.

Today’s prompt was a good one. Have you ever heard someone wonder what future archaeologists will make of us? What about what someone from an alien civilization will make of us?

NaPoWriMo today challenged me to answer that question in poetic form, exploring a particular object or place from the point of view of some far-off, future scientist. The object or site of study could be anything from a “World’s Best Grandpa” coffee mug to a Pizza Hut, from a Pokemon poster to a cellphone.

I chose instead an object from the past with deep significance. It misses the prompt perhaps, but it doesn’t miss my heart.

grandma's table

the magic of the mahogany table, relating 
not so much to the nature of the grain, running
like streaking waves of darkness toward the light, 
but to the explosion of connection, gathering
strength to weather whatever lay ahead. wondering
if the jagged crack near to the one end, weakened
any hope for repair.
when great grandma sat there
three months before her passing, when she complained of not hearing the words, 
should we have known?
when she bowed her head with focused chewing 
and wanted her black coffee light with cream,
should we have pulled her back to earth, resisting
the angel of death hovering nearby. 
or is death the true wonder of all mysteries, pointing 
toward the light, always toward the light, moving?

—Carla Jeanne