Haven

Haven’t I sat in this room a million times?

And squinted as the sun flooded in

And watched as the rain slid down

And stared as the snow settled,

Magically white in the same corners of

The same windows.

-

Haven’t I walked down this corridor every day?

And been shoved through the same door

And been bumped by the same bags

And shuffled along behind everyone else,

As I stared aimlessly at

The same floor.

-

Haven’t I run around this field before?

And prayed for it to be over

And got further and further behind

And gulped water like I was dying,

As I collapsed helplessly on

The same grass.

-

Haven’t I opened this book already?

And seen the same words

And drawn lazy spirals all over the place

And not really listened,

While writing appeared all over

The same board.

-

Haven’t I sat with you for seven years?

And wrote notes on your pencil case

And whispered in your ear during silent work

And made posters with you,

Standing at the front with you looking round at

The same room.

-

Haven’t I answered this question yesterday?

And defined that term

And got the answer in the back of the book

And wrote it in blue ballpoint pen,

As I was asked to share my answer with

The same class.

-

And am I not happy here

Doing the same things

With the same people

In the same place.

Am I not happy here?

Here, in my haven.