echoes from his brilliance

echoes(ˈekō) from his brilliance(ˈbrilyəns)

I miss what was

By Henry H. Walker

I don’t like how it feels:
a fellow(ˈfelō) teacher’s classroom,
the materials(məˈti(ə)rēəl) for his teaching,
the ways, the things,
with which he surrounded himself,
laid(lā) bare(be(ə)r) and needing to be removed,
what to save?
what to reuse?
what to throw(THrō) away?
every decision momentous(mōˈmen(t)əs,məˈ-), and as nothing,

the world in his classroom
was one I only glimpsed(ɡlim(p)s),
I appreciated(əˈprēSHēˌāt) the artistry(ˈärdəstrē) he lived within the classroom,
for I witnessed(ˈwitnəs) the kids’ joy in learning,
the kids’ coming into their power,
because of the teacher he was,
because of the love he freely gave,
even in the outrageous(outˈrājəs) teasing(tēz) he could do,

without him in this classroom,
all the things only echo from the world he created,

time has passed,
the world has changed,
I miss what was,
and I sorrow(ˈsärō).

https://henryspoetry.blogspot.com/2019/08/echoes-from-his-brilliance.html