A Poem About Letters
Those marks printed in black capitals
stared at me as I stared at them
they held a secret I could not entangle
lines and circles, squiggles
what was I to do with them
Sent to her starnge room when I was only four
when no one could understand my twisted words
perhaps the speech therapist could train my tongue
and line my words into comprehensible speech.
And so Miss Mack used her phonics' boards
not realizing I did not know those signs.
Each week she taught me sounds
and matched them to each letter.
Autumn passed and on a December evening
I sat upon my granny's lap and cuddled
ready to listen to a bedtime story
granny cleared her throat and read the title.
Those words, I knew those words!
I knew all the words she read!
Thrilled with discovery, each word slipped off my tongue
and I read on, read every word my eyes devoured.
How many times since then
alone and caressing a fragile, frightened soul
have I entertained myself with words flowing from pages
and found my world filled to the brim
dreaming in technicolor and enunciated sounds.
Bo
“Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow.”
Mary Anne Radmacher