Sitting on Empty

 There are 131 emails in my inbox; 

Greeting me in bold print as I open my eyes, 

Settling like cement around my limbs, my skull. 

I must get up, must fight the concrete of dread.

But I hit snooze for the 5th time instead.

There are 162 emails in my inbox. 

Ten minutes of sleep like a piece of Scotch tape.

The flood is still coming. 

Today, I will hold my head above water

And wonder if anything I do will even matter.

There are 145 emails in my inbox. 

But you wouldn't notice the problems I've solved

While combing my hair and brushing my teeth.

The passenger seat greets me with a paper pile,

To grade; To sign; To drop off; to file.

I don't look at the emails in my inbox. 

"What are we doing today, Ms. Siel?"

19 sets of eyes stare back at my swollen ones.

I take a breath and I put on a show.

We read and write and play and grow.

There are 183 emails in my inbox.

I grab more caffeine, the third trip this week.

I sit at my desk and I begin to respond.

"I'll come to your room. What was the date?"

Heap more meetings onto my plate.

There's 144 emails in my inbox. 

But I'm all out of time. The hour went fast.

I rush to my car and I drive to the next school.

I present the data I prepared late last night.

"Scores are low...how can I help make this right?"

There's 165 emails in my inbox. 

It's lunch time, but I too stressed to eat.

Because if I'm not prepared for every second,

my 30 middle school students will eat me alive.

So I start to plan as I take another drive.

There's 178 emails in my inbox.

Printed the worksheets. Prepared the projector.

The kids pile in and 2 hours of questions begin.

"Can I use the bathroom?" "Change my seat?"

"How do you spell...?" "What does this mean?"

I don't open my inbox. 

I don't want to see the deadlines I'm missing.

I can't respond, "What can I do to help?"

Because, frankly, there's no help left in me.

Both my car and I are sitting on empty.