I remember the silver old people who loved me
In the church my great-grandfather helped build.
I remember the nursery school in my grandmother's
Backyard and the swing set and the tall jungle gym.
I remember the classroom speaker above the blackboard
Telling us the president was shot and to go right home.
I remember the teacher in junior high who had to rush
Out of class when blood began to run down her leg.
I remember the high school audience shadowed in the dark
As I sang and danced and tried to remember my lines.
I remember my favorite professor who whispered to us
When she wasn't teaching she was writing poems at home.
I remember the students who put up with me even
When I was still figuring out what they needed most.
I don't remember seeing anyone killed in any of the places
I remember loving those who loved me without asking.
Laurence Musgrove is professor and chair of English and modern languages at Angelo State University.