My hand was up,
Why did the teacher not see me Mummy ?
Sweetheart, sometimes the teacher chooses you,
At other times he chooses someone else.
This is how it is.
It is OK.
This answer wasn’t what he would have liked to hear.
Sadness was still touching his face.
Although not visible to his little eyes,
An awareness in the little boy knows of a deeper seeing.
A choice-less, all embracing essence, in which
Being seen or not being seen,
Being chosen or not being chosen,
Are One.