I walk these halls
And see the stares –
No, not pity
No, not disgust.

I sit in hard chairs
And watch her reaction
No, not aversion
No, not dread.

I speak in crowded rooms
And feel their judgment
No, not damning
No, not superior.

“I have to talk to you!”
they call
No, not accusatory
No, not annoyed.

But –
Respect
And admiration
And praise
And they part for me
And they listen.

I see their faces
And I think
I know you –
I grew you
In some little way.

This school reminds me
Of what I’ve built
Of where I’m going
But

Alone –
at the top
or
at the bottom
makes no difference
still alone