Final Exam
All classes
roll up into this one
last, dreaded exam,
the final moments, to see what,
if anything, they remember.
Students gather
in this room all semester,
sitting in the same, exact chair, always.
We like repetition, we like
to know our place,
and so the seat and those around you
become familiar, expected,
something you know.
Sitting in someone else’s seat
would be like stealing their wallet,
and you would be considered: deviant.
This week is about transitions,
endings, then new beginnings,
Next week is non-existent,
There will be no more meetings
of this particular group,
It is also about finality,
percentages tallied
and one – letter – grade,
For some lucky ones, graduation!
For the professors?
a break,
and then we do it all over again,
with new faces.
I hear them now, laughing,
sharing answers,
They await my entrance
and so I leave this page
to enter the room,
with their final exam.
It seems strange that we would turn away from something that lasts eternal, and desire something that is doomed to perish. No one would do that if they could tell the difference. The eternal is a mystery that none can explain. It simply is what it is. And yet there is another part of our being that can appear to be the most reliable, can take over and keep us so busy that we keep the eternal part at bay. I think that anyone can feel that eternal part. It appears when one lights a candle and becomes lost in its beauty. It professes its existence in a sunrise or sunset, those times that in themselves are the bridge to another time. Darkness becomes morning, the sun later moves beyond our reach to another part of the world. There is a moment when time ceases to exist, when we are caught in between this stage and the next and are aware of the beauty of it.
Doctor Grandma 