Her reverie is broken by the clock's urgent call.
She sits up and stretches toward the morning light.
Her reverie is broken by the clock's urgent call.
She sits up and stretches toward the morning light.
refusing the cane waiting by the door.
Her will carries her when her body protests,
one careful step, then another.
She does this every day,
not as penance,
but in gratitude.
She stands before her class,
patiently giving of herself.
The children see only the teacher.
They do not see the warrior.
They do not hear the distant thunder
or remember the desert wind.
They do not know she once ran forest trails
beneath the pines of North Idaho.
They do not know she was a dancer,
that music once carried her
where feet no longer can.
They do not know she answered her country's call
without hesitation,
or that a single violent moment
changed the course of her life.
Yet each morning she rises, for t
She teaches.
She encourages.
She believes.
Her gift to them is a better future.
Her gift is hope.
