A teacher’s memory of 9/11 comes from a found folder

Author’s photo

I was in sixth grade when we watched the launch of the space shuttle Challenger. It was a momentous event as Christa McAuliffe, a teacher-astronaut was on board. I will never forget the shock of watching the devastating explosion on television.

I feel for my teacher, Mrs. Noland, who undoubtedly had the responsibility of caring for her saddened students. She was the first responder to our processing, even as she was in shock, herself.

While certainly, the Challenger explosion was a horrible accident, it really does not compare to the fear and shock of watching the events of September 11…


A poem of mourning transitions

Photo by Jack Bulmer on Unsplash

I walk about my life
on the 2nd of September
unburdened
because it’s Dad’s birthday
but it’s his unbirthday
his old phone stays charged
in my desk drawer

she sneaks in
as August’s softer sister
wise from the strain
of breathing
like a loblolly pine
choked by kudzu vine
suddenly cut free

as we pass through the
summer of the year
we hoped for normality
we can’t change the equinox
but we can accept change
even if we don’t notice
time slips, we slip
we arrive

within the subtlety of September
slanted sunlight
casts sparkle on a mourning dove
on the powerline
still…


A Poem

Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash

Call up your favorite languages
Call up your mother tongue
Spill out your crafty treasure chests
Dust off your used to be hobbies
Pull down the attic ladder
Gather the scrapbooks, the yearbooks, the printed photographs
Your sewing machine
Restring your guitar
Clear your throat for the harmony
Gather the heirloom seeds
The fabrics and dyes
Your crochet and knitting needles
Your cross-stitch too
We are recruiting poets
The world needs you!

You will need to pack your paintbrushes
Your oils and acrylics and biggest canvas
Bring your spraypaints and biggest statements
Things are about to get messy

Bakers and…


Always learning teacher/writer/mama/wife/sister/daughter

Author’s image: Photo of me, contemplating my life choices during most of 2020

Hi! My name is Samantha Rae Lazar. Thank you for taking the time to read my little auto-bio. I began writing on Medium in June 2019, and I am in love with this platform, even with all of its challenges and changes. It has become the writing community I have always craved.

I have been a writer since I could write and a humanities teacher (English/Language Arts, Social Studies/History) since 1998. I have lived the school schedule since I was in pre-school. I buy new planners/calendars in June. I currently teach 5th grade.

I live and work in a beautiful…


A post-modern love poem

Photo by John Fowler on Unsplash

turned on its head,
the horse kicks rainbows
go ahead and bury the metaphor
if you’re not ready to see
refill eight cups
that makes all love stay
at least the night
then perhaps pancakes

here we inverse the devil
show the raw to the raw
soak up all we’ve ever been
sponge to hearts
blue beats to blue beats
which electrode combination
shocks?

cribbage games
are built for two

let’s solve this paper puzzle
stimulate our minds
until errand time — the list
details are my
swoon language
please feed the cat

but this is not a two-door riddle
you…


Prose-poetry in conversation with Eros

Photo by Jim Kalligas on Unsplash

waiting for Eros to show up again, making peace with an empty space in the sheets — pulling the albums and incense from boxes to a foundational container — I nurse a shattered heart again — maybe never was my heart —

not twenty-four hours home from adventures in the birthplace of Eros and Psyche — never listening to their warnings — I swear off heartbreak — such a trivial wind — too enamored by my proximity to Africa — too strung up by Narcissus — late-night Peloponnesian promenade — what was it that he said?

caught up in tail-gusts…


30-day poetry challenge: Day 8: Delight in the moment

Photo by Seadil Hakim on Unsplash

this language, born out of invented chaos
leaves no beds, cars, or bathrooms —
sure the laughter spills out
even causes us to re-enter the space
to gain composure
where there is none
so be us —
storm chasing sisters
she wants to report from the eye
I want a window seat view of the sky
sometimes I think we conjure
through whispers
our lives entwined
and across time
like the light of stars
as seen from earth

Happy Birthday to my best friend in the world, my big little sister- 9/8/21.
This little delight comes from our after-work conversation…


A poem

Photo by Erik-Jan Leusink on Unsplash

I have a deep respect
for the days we fall behind
for when the choice of
mass production
leaves basic need depletion
in its tracks
how can we rise from
the mental press
a vice on health

truth to staying hydrated
is to drink before thirst
truth to staying inspired
is to rest before burnout

so yes, we fall asleep
we fall short of our goals
and so what
that girl that has it all together
she’s a never-ending machine
of output, as if she’s granted
a different timeline
than the rest of us

I don’t envy
her exhaustion one bit
because…


30-day poetry challenge: Day 6: What dwells within the unconscious mind?

Photo by Lotte Bezemer on Unsplash

I can intuit healing
when I’ve been through the fight
enough times
to know better

let this lesson
rise to the surface
let there be truth
from the inside out

for nourishing waters
of the late summer hope
have always been here

authenticity
and connection
are where my dreams
long to drink from this cup

know deeply
how softness and patience
reside always
in my family and home

Samantha Lazar 2021

This poem was created using the Wayhome Tarot Deck and it is a piece from my Tarot Vision Series. …


In poetry form: the culminating 30

Photo by Jyotirmoy Gupta on Unsplash

home
we built
life
with songs
in the key
of love
dreams of doors
and pathways lit
by the thought
of your laughter
returning to me
as if youth stayed
and suns never set
but we can’t capture time
to watch a child grow
is to know childhood’s tricks
backstage pass to magic shows
time travel’s carousel
wait for me where our lives meet
let me travel though your brown eyes
help me slow down this story
this time, let me reach where I’m wise
wings are meant to free so spirits soar
my guides are mine and yours are yours…

Samantha Lazar

Poetry, fiction, and essays in celebration of being a Mom, Wife, Educator, Writer, & Lover of Life.

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