What I Can’t Teach
- Jun 16
- 2 min read
Updated: Jun 25
By Kalina Smith
There are some things I’ll never fully understand:
Algebra, inflation, mitosis,
Geometry, photosynthesis, osmosis,
Or how it has been four years since that day,
That horrible, awful day when we could not find you.
Our minds rushing to the worst-case scenarios,
But the truth was the worst-case scenario.
You were only fourteen and it will never make sense.
I can take a class in biology.
I can read a book about math.
There are documentaries exploring the plant life cycle,
But the truth is, I’ll never grasp how we could have lost you.
So young, so much left to learn.
And I may be a teacher, but how can I ever explain
The rain on the day of the funeral,
The football stickers on your casket,
Burying the mean baby boy we all adored.
The beloved big brother, the prodigal son.
I’ll never be able to express how unjust life can be.
Death is inevitable but for a baby?
It doesn’t seem right and my God, it’s not fair.
To turn my head at our annual Christmas Eve party,
And not see you there.
For your mom to attend your graduation
And pose with a bare chair.
They turned your tassel and threw your cap,
But you couldn’t catch it.
Kalina is "mostly" a poet, but her fiction and creative nonfiction have also been published. She is a high school English teacher responsible for many courses, including creative writing. Kalina has previously been published in Nebo, A Literary Journal, Free Spirit, The Ignatian, FLARE: The Flagler Review, the Cackling Kettle, ONE ART: A Journal of Poetry, and RedRoseThorns. She is forthcoming in The Font.
