What Do You Know?

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I was left by myself at the top of a ladder
That held me up close to the ceiling above.
That’s when she sat down below me,
Bottom-rung smiling, said, “Well, what do you know?”
We started to talking and over an hour
I forgot all about that ceiling so high,
and all of her words opened up that old rooftop
And then I could see that big, wide-open sky
We kept on talking long after that ladder
Was put away out behind Frobisher Hall
Or someplace behind that bamboo fence hiding,
Next to a bush of geranium flowers.
But it wasn’t a ladder that helped me climb higher,
Helped me find classrooms that teachers don’t know.
Sometimes the highest place rests at the bottom,
And sometimes the meekest will carry us all.
“Well, what do you know?” wasn’t really a question
but rather some open arms bringing us home,
into a deep swimming whole conversation,
and laughter that brings out the best of our tears.
Some days I’ll never come down from that ladder,
In some ways she’ll never get up off that rung.
And now when I find myself reaching for ceilings
Seems like she whispers…“step like you’re young.”
And then when I stumble and stare at my footsteps
Tumbling beneath me like first days at school
I find myself wishing for ten-foot tall ceilings
And all of the answers that never quite come.
Well “What do you know?” wasn’t really a question
but rather some open arms bringing us home,
into a deep swimming whole conversation,
and laughter that brings out the best of our tears.