This week I have been listening to some of my old audio recordings of Robert Bly reading at college poetry readings, conferences, radio interviews, etc. In honor of National Poetry Month, I am reposting this Bly poem, in honor of my own teachers:
Gratitude to Old Teachers
When we stride or stroll across the frozen lake,
We place our feet where they have never been.
We walk upon the unwalked. But we are uneasy.
Who is down there but our old teachers?
….(Read the complete poem at Poetry 180.