The first time I ever spoke into a microphone was thirty minutes after I found my green light.

You strut into the room confidently,

Dressed so eloquently,

speaking with unyielding conviction.

Unlike most high school teachers you wore your feelings on your sleeves

Tried to protect us but showed us enough of the world so we knew:

“Adult,”

Will always mean more than the little complaints

 

Oh sweet Mary,

You taught me that the little things

Are worth pennies

You use them when you’re desperate

in search of worry.

You taught us being adult doesn't only mean working for a living;

 it means living a life,

Being a person with an opinion,

showing everyone how bare words can strip you;

You can look naked while keeping your clothes on.

30 minutes into the first day of school and you looked just as miserable as we all did, but taught us something on our first day back: “life will throw you some curve balls, and in my case it was a faulty ol' liver but

I don't want you to think about that - I'm okay,”

“It's serious- I'm gonna be your best friend but like everything that too shall pass.”

 

Ms Mary Ogarek passed away almost twelve hours before my first time on stage

I found out thirty minutes prior

With anger

I walked up speaking into my microphone, for the first time, stumbling

over words

until I found the green light

Oh sweet Mary, you didn't leave

not yet at least.

I praise you.

Your unyielding passion,

to some snot nosed teenagers, extends out of life.

You are surreal.

You are great,

always were and always will be.

You, my dear, will be remembered.

Reminding me to always be still, it will be okay.

 

There will be sleepless nights,

Leaving me hoping that the only things keeping me awake

are the silly little puns you would formulate.

 

I won't forget,

The first time I sat in a room with you talking and laughing,

We talked about me and you

And writing—

You reminded me to write.

You knew how awful poetry could be,

Its tendency for sleepless nights and used up pens

And

Here we are—

And now I talk about you in writing.

 

You didn't leave us, green light

You only beat us to the next step.

We’ll be waiting here for as long as it takes

Save us a seat on the nice couch,

the one with the best lighting.

You are forever, green light.

I promise.