Quiet Eyes.

"He had such quiet eyes", they read.

The slide show painted stanzas on the board,

Dark colours on a pasty surface tainted by remnants of past classes.

They read word for word out loud.

Words that rolled like chunky unsugared molasses.

There is passion in those words.

Passion that now lies dying on a sacrificial slab

Covered in magnificent shroud that now lay drab.

"Answer the question, girls". She said.

Ignore the times when your hearts were similarly broken.

Leave out the ways in which your faith was shaken.

Write only what the words mean, not how they gleam.

Never show how they leave your heart straining at the seams.

"Ten minutes, girls".

Just enough time to remember your broken dreams.

Just enough space to etch the shape of your torn romances.

Just enough time to gain the marks but not show the healing scars.

There was once passion in these words.

There were tears in those eyes.

There was a life being lived there.

Now,

There are only grades to be gained.

"You have five minutes left girls".

Hazidi Abdul Hamid. 10 April 2014.

Written while observing a literature class at SMK Convent Sentul.