The things I carry

We student-warriors carry so many things, trappings of our lives,
In backpacks, purses, messenger bags.
And I, with my World Wildlife Fund bag and my heavy thoughts
Slung over my left shoulder, carry so many objects
And feelings left unseen.

I carry
A measure of logic,
An ounce of instinct,
A pinch of hope,
And a couple pounds of spirals full
Of trigonometry and poetry.

I carry
A black jacket, fuzzy-hooded, that
I cannot do without:
It's protection from the relentless cold
As well as a shield from the ever-haunting awkwardness
That follows me like a swarm of angry gnats.

In the left pocket, a red
Pony bead, a Bahamian dime, pebbles worn delightfully smooth;
All things I cannot bear to leave alone and cold on the ground
Like a friend forgotten.

In the right pocket, my Sansa mp3,
Sleek, black, reliable-
A small, shining escape-hatch made of music notes.

Always, I carry a pencil-
A life-line, a tool, a sword.
Always, I carry knowledge-
A bridge, a key, an ocean of facts.

With a hundred words I'd like to say,
A few strong wishes here to stay,
That book report that's due the next day,
Those are the things I carry.