MY TUTOR

MY TUTOR

     By Travis M. Whitehead

     Originally published by Interstice, a journal of South Texas College

 

She came to me with a heart full of joy

     Flowers in her hair, fragrance overwhelming

           Walking beneath the breezy palm trees

                  Her breath sweet like jasmine

 

I didn’t know what say to her

     So breathless was I

          Intoxicated by her passionate embrace

                 Enraptured by the power of her beating heart.

              

 

She spoke of the world

      It’s fragrances and flavors

           Of the dance of life

                  Of its cadence and melodies

                 

She began tutoring me

     Reviving my dreams

          Validating my existence

                Drawing out poetic voice

                      

"What is that?" she asked, pointing.

     "It's a rock," I replied.

            "Just a rock?" she inquired.

                  "A rock in the water," I stammered.

 

"No," she replied gently, shaking her head.

     "It's a stony spit of land, jutting into the sea

           "On a pristine crescent beach

                  "Lined by swaying coconut palms."

 

"What's that splashing against the rock," she asked.

      "Water," I replied. What else could I say?

            "Not just water," she said, "but waves crashing

                  "Sending spray into the air,

                       "Capturing the sunlight

                             "And shimmering with gold and amethyst and sapphire."

 

We drove along the coast,

     She said, "What is this drive we're taking?"

          "Just a drive," I said.

               "Not just a drive, but a cruise

                    "Along a twisting rocky shoreline."

 

We stopped at an overlook, and she asked "What is that out there?"

     "The ocean?" I answered lamely.

           "Not just the ocean," she replied kindly. "But the great blue Pacific,

                  “A powerful presence, pulsating with life.”

 

We remained standing there, and I wondered why.

     Finally she asked, “Where are we standing?”

           “At the top of a cliff,” I said.

                 “Not just a cliff,” she said, “but one dappled with layers

                      “Of time-molded colors

                            "That change as the sun passes

                                  "Across a cobalt blue sky.”

 

"See those?" she asked, pointing to the birds flying by.

     I knew the next question, and answered, "Yeah, they're birds."

          "Not just birds," she said, "but earth-bound angels catching the wind,

                "The breath of the ocean lifting their wings."

           

We spent many long hours like this, day after day,

    As she taught me to laugh, to breathe, to dream

         I realized one day I didn't know her name,

              Although she'd known mine since the day we met.

           

"What's your name?" I asked finally as we sat by the sea.

         She said, "My name is Spanish,"

                 And her tutoring continued, as it does to this very day.

                           As she fuses herself into my struggling English prose.