So much they can show us in the dark.

The house lights die and then

a young voice acting older, the girl

from my lit class steps like a fawn

into the light and becomes another

and I believe her as I believe

the mystery of roses in my yard

growing red in a May midnight.

 

How I love what I feel watching

students create other lives

on stage, caring so much about lines

they’ve pressed into their minds.

My tongue becomes cotton

when they sing, my feet twitch

through each dance and my soul

glows when they do well

what they’ve rehearsed for months

of afternoons and evenings.

 

And I’d like them to know

I’ve felt that strange pain

in the thrill of a curtain call, that ache

when something beautiful is over. But

joy can stay on the stage of memory

and in an adult tomorrow, they can

close their eyes and live again

the night they turned paper scripts

into living theater, the miracle

that can happen behind school footlights

each time the curtain rises.

 

From Alone with Love Songs (Grayson Books).

Used with the author’s permission.