Items bump into me from childhood:
The small benches on which a cacophony sat
In anticipation
Of something with which I am unfamiliar.

Never the speech or sounds of anyone
But perhaps a glance in partial recognition
To enflame
The brilliant vacant corridors.

I was never there,
I was never aware 
Of their diversity
But I was among them in their congregation.

I have waited so long, oh Lord
I have waited so long to see
And now I fear
That if I endure, their cries will never cease.