Late

****First attempt at a smash poem, I don't think as many people will like this but I needed to write it anyways. Shred it if you want, this could probably use it. Also, the rhythm gets better towards the end...****

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The reason I am late, dearest teacher, has the best reason to date, but to make you wait to hear it would surely leave your gait slightly lessened by the weight of the fact of why I am late.

But you see, dearest teacher, I might just tell you anyways because you need to hear how my days affect the ways in which I walk, the ways in which I talk, the way of how I spend my days that I might just tell you about anyways.

And so I will start, dearest teacher, because you simply must listen if ever I am to reach her.

Dearest teacher, there was this girl, and her world was quickly turned and burned and morphed into something she didn’t want. Her goal was not to run and jump but to simply not fall down because around her there were shadows and on the ground they crawled with voices that called “Come down here to us, stop giving your all,” and she cried every night just waiting to fall, just waiting to trip, waiting for all to stand up and watch her crawl.

The world was against her and there was nothing left to say, nothing left to hold onto yet something everyone wanted to take. They would have mugged her, not hugged her, and left her for the ground where all the shadows crawled screeching all around.

But it would not be her fight because she texted me, thank God, about everything that had happened. And I am truly awed by what the Great Man has done because the battle that she fought was a battle hardly won.

You see, dearest teacher, and I keep saying that because you must. She would have taken her life that night, she would have bit the dust. And you really must know, dear teacher, oh that feeling you have known, that it is not a simple thing to be played with, a simple toy to be thrown.

Because the feelings that we play with are not always good, the voices that yell could, should and would take us under, take us down into places unwondered. We aren’t meant to listen to them, dearest teacher, and the problem is that we do and that is simply why I am here and late now, still talking to you.

This girl that chose not to listen, who now glistens and shines, she has been constantly on my mind and I have been praying with prayer sublime because although He speaks and although I can listen, it might never be enough to get her to glisten when one is so deep in the water that they can’t even see their own father- and I know, believe me I do, but the person that I am talking to now is you because I am late. And it was so that night as well, had I not replied, the person that she is now might have died and had I not been there, there to take her from all this, to turn her around, allow her to see the bliss in a glorious life, that she is called by God, there might have been a different ending because I would have been too late to take it all. But instead, dearest teacher, I stayed up very late to ensure she would not fall.

And in return, I am now late here too, speaking to you, hoping beyond hope that you get what I do, what I did, what I’ve done, because now, dearest teacher, I know that I have missed your date, but not the date set from above, and so I cannot apologize for doing what I have done.

Because although I missed your date, I did not miss The One’s and He has sent me here to come beside, not shun, but if you shun me away now, dear teacher, I truly do understand because the date set by man is not so from I Am.

But again, I stand here speaking words that were not always my own and I wish I could have skipped and simply stayed at home, yet He has called me here not to quake beneath your sight, but instead to apologized for the slight that I made, the date that I missed. I am sorry that I am late.