“Phase-in”

When they come to you

They are not alone

But half-anchored

To an arm

Or leg

As unwilling to let go

As ancient coral on the sea bed floor.

But currents change and what

Was one unbreakable has now a crack —

A piece lets go and floats to the surface

Much like a hand reaching out tentatively

To one that is proffered with a smile.

The touch remains, even at night,

A remembrance that allows for pieces

To jettison from the bedrock, slowly, and silently.

By morning,

At school again, the anchor is invisible

And the hand extended now is not that of the teacher

But is of the student

reaching out,

waving goodbye,

And lurching forward, smiling,

Into the

Whirling eddies of classroom life.