outside the old church
on Friday evening, Jose,
14, sobs in his mother's
arms, dressed in cap
and gown, his 8th grade
graduation.
She says
"do you know how much I love you?"
over and over, rocking him.
I stand there.
I am lucky.
The moment passes, his eyes
look to me, his art teacher,
and he hugs me too, the
weight of his future on
my shoulder.
