Student of the Struggles

By KATHERINE YEATON

Early
sun arises in her bedroom window,
curtains
darken the sleeping room,
alarm
clock ringing awakens the student,
sheets
fly to the wooden floor,
she’s
ready to begin her day,
slowly
rising from her reassuring bed.

Wishing
she could jump back in bed,
filled
with warmth from the window,
her
mind goes over the day.
She
stretches up to the ceiling of her room,
her
feet scatter across the house, slipping on the floor,
“I’m
drained!” exclaims the student.

Books
and binders weigh down the student,
books
as hard as bricks, the opposite of bed,
cheerios
spill onto the car floor,
trees
and concrete rush past the window,
arriving
to an assortment of people squeezed in one room,
many
faces regretting the start of the day.

Educators
enter the room to begin their tearful day,
“Go
to your desks,” the teacher tells the student.

Lessons
begin in the silent room,
daydreams
of crawling back into her bed,
staring
out the window,
with
a slight turn of the head, only to stare at the floor.

Students
tap their new tennis shoes on the waxed floor,
classes
switch to the second of the day,
raindrops
fall upon the window.
Notes
pass from student to student,
minds
dwindle thoughts of bed
gazing
at the pointless posters around the room.

Teachers’
voices boom after glancing through the room,
bullets
and guns shiver the floor.
Nerves
fly like kids scared of monsters lurking in the dark while tucked in
bed.
Her
last day?
Shots
fired at the student,
light
shines brighter than before from the window.

Sounds
silence the room and she’s staring at the glowing window.
She’ll
never crawl back in bed, never begin a new day.
Body
lying on the floor, soul sitting up, forever in memory: student.