Adrienne Rich — The School Among the Ruins

Beirut. Baghdad. Sarajevo. Bethlehem. Kabul. Not of course here. 1 Teaching the first lesson and the last —great falling light of summer will you last longer than schooltime? When children flow in columns at the doors BOYS GIRLS and the busy teachers open or close high windows with hooked poles drawing darkgreen shades closets unlocked, locked questions unasked, asked, when love of the fresh impeccable sharp-pencilled yes order without cruelty a street on earth neither heaven nor hell busy with commerce and worship young teachers walking to school fresh bread and early-open foodstalls 2 When the offensive rocks the sky when nightglare misconstrues day and night when lived-in rooms from the upper city tumble cratering lower streets cornices of olden ornament human debris when fear vacuums out the streets When the whole town flinches blood on the undersole thickening to glass Whoever crosses hunched knees bent a contested zone knows why she does this suicidal thing School’s now in session day and night children sleep in the classrooms teachers rolled close 3 How the good teacher loved his school the students the lunchroom with fresh sandwiches lemonade and milk the classroom glass cages of moss and turtles teaching responsibility A morning breaks without bread or fresh-poured milk parents or lesson plans diarrhea first question of the day children shivering it’s September Second question: where is my mother? 4 One: I don’t know where your mother is Two: I don’t know why they are trying to hurt us Three: or the latitude and longitude of their hatred Four: I don’t know if we hate them as much I think there’s more toilet paper in the supply closet I’m going to break it open Today this is your lesson: write as clearly as you can your name home street and number down on this page No you can’t go home yet but you aren’t lost this is our school I’m not sure what we’ll eat we’ll look for healthy roots and greens searching for water though the pipes are broken 5 There’s a young cat sticking her head through window bars she’s hungry like us but can feed on mice her bronze erupting fur speaks of a life already wild her golden eyes don’t give quarter She’ll teach us Let’s call her Sister when we get milk we’ll give her some 6 I’ve told you, let’s try to sleep in this funny camp All night pitiless pilotless things go shrieking above us to somewhere Don’t let your faces turn to stone Don’t stop asking me why Let’s pay attention to our cat she needs us Maybe tomorrow the bakers can fix their ovens 7 “We sang them to naps told stories made shadow-animals with our hands wiped human debris off boots and coats sat learning by heart the names some were too young to write some had forgotten how”