TheCriterion The Literary Magazine of
American International College
THE CRITERION EZINE – SPRING 2012 EDITION President of the College Dean of Arts, Education, and Sciences English Department Head English Faculty Liason Editor‐in‐Chief Featured Writers and Visual Artists Seferina Starks Wilmary Gonzalez Samantha Tabak Artist Unkown Jenna Miller Melissa Labbe Phoebe Peterson Abriana Morales Kadeem Gayle Seferina Starks Aubri Bailly Breeyn Green Darrel Rivera Fabria Joseph Kimberly Scott Artist Unkown Wilmary Gonzalez Seferina Starks Artist Unkown Kadeem Gayle Anonymous B. Robinson Devon A. Gibson Saradgine Sincere Artist Unkown Abriana Morales Artist Unkown Ryan Hubbell
Vincent Maniaci Vickie Hess Robin Varnum Lori Paige Julie R. Bodnar
Gory Bits of Nature (cover artwork) Paws of Purity Jamie’s Story Student Artwork The Prince’s Endless Slumber Student Artwork Student Artwork Why am I so strange? Distance from the Sun Indifference Tribute to These Curls I Can’t and I Will Show You I Can Student Artwork Student Artwork Untitled Student Artwork Insomniac Secret In Any System Student Artwork A Storm’s Journey Student Artwork Student Artwork A Reason to Rewind Solitude Student Artwork Thank You Student Artwork Student Artwork
Paws of Purity Dearest Isolde, How could they have loved so fast then? Dearest, oh dearest best friend, Who could do this now? The real hearts are gone, And now those that corrupt have come to stay, But I’m staying right here in my bright clouds. I’m gonna dream of pretty pinks and yellows, The luscious reds and not the evil. I’m going to dream of the baby blues, And the sea green. I’m going to swim in the goodness that’s still out there. Oh Dearest Isolde, Please let me keep dreaming, Dreaming, dreaming and dreaming. Paws of purity are fading, Where are you? But I’m going to stay here stroking my paw, Meow, I purr Because I believe I’m pure, No matter what my insecurities have to say. I’m going to kiss the prince, Because I believe he exists Dearest Isolde, I’m going to dream of the pretty dresses And all the fairytales come to life, Dearest Isolde, Can I make these come true?
Jamie’s Story We walked in just ten minutes ago, with smiles on our faces, Just to leave as quickly as we came with tear mark traces. I had so many thoughts running through my head after reading those three words, Two of which were simple and the last, well that was unheard. I hadn’t understood why you were chosen above us all, But I admire your strength, vigor, and ability to stand tall. Let me take you back to December 15th and explain my best friend’s situation, Between the red cells and white, something had gone wrong, so the doctors had to find an accommodation. Word traveled fast of her family’s second run in with this plague, Many times this disease is uncovered because of a bruise, perhaps on the leg. She started treatment immediately, as no one has yet to find a cure, But the chemotherapy was never easy, to watch was pure torture. And so the doctors kept saying it had to get worse before it could get better, It began to seem as if the drugs would completely destroy her. She continued to smile and fight back her tears, After all, she had already fought her brother’s battle for many years. When Wade had passed, there was no escaping the ultimate change, All of her feelings on losing her big brother had to be caged. Every year Wade’s courage, character, and continuous smiles are celebrated, So now she has to stand there in front of a crowd and explain how she could relate. Being Wade’s perfect match was never an easy thing to endure, Because she could give him blood and marrow, she ultimately controlled his future. Who would have guessed that her future would hold the same hospital sounds, late night beeping and all of the nurses making their rounds. As I sat there and saw the fear in her eyes, the smile on her face, and all of her pain, It made me realize that in my life I had nothing to lose, but all to gain. As I sat with her in her hospital bed and she rubbed her now bald head, We discussed our futures and she planned to continue the life she led. No one saw it coming; it all started with a simple headache, But those blood tests made everyone wake, it was for her life’s sake. Her name is Jamie, and she is my best friend, don’t you see? As of June 17th, 2010 she has been completely cancer free.
I am so proud of her, and all she has overcome, All I hope for you in life is that you encounter someone like Jamie, just one. Then you will see the true definition of both fear and fearless, You will soon be like me, with a respect that is completely endless. Unfortunately it can come back and there will always be that constant worry, But I am happy that I had the opportunity to share with you Jamie’s story.
The Prince’s Endless Slumber I was to be married on May 24th, 1822. My betrothed was a Prince by the name of John C. Gringley. He was, by all means, devilishly handsome and unfathomably rich; however, he lacked a strong personality and rather bored me. Our engagement had been arranged upon my birth. Unfortunately, on the morning of our wedding, the situation took an abrupt twist: Prince Gringley did not wake from his sleep. The cause of his passing still remains inconclusive. There was speculation that he was poisoned by a rather potent, yet inconspicuous substance, but nothing can be proven. One can only wonder as to how the whole situation occurred. When I learned of his death, I knew that I could not stay within the confines of my home. There I would be haunted by the sympathies of my family and friends. I needed an outlet to organize my emotions and cope with my grief. Although my family was not extravagantly rich, traveling abroad as I pleased was never financially troubling. Generally, it was not permissible that a lady travel alone, but I pleaded with my parents. I expressed how deeply distressed I was, arguing that time alone was the only way for me to arrange my scattered thoughts. Reluctantly, at the one request that I stay with a family friend, my parents let me go. I arrived at precisely half past the hour. It was a long trip by boat, and I was eager to retire for the night. When my carriage pulled up, I could not help but feel a twinge of excitement, as my heart began to beat faster. The small town, located within the heartland of Tanzania, was rather fantastical. As we traveled down the bumpy roads, the lights of the night gave off an aura of mystical secrecy. I was very intrigued and quite satisfied with the town. In the morning I would wish to explore further into the depths of the country. The rest of the night was hazy. I do, however, recall meeting an intriguing young man by the name of Sir Daniel. I assumed this man to be the family friend to whose hands I had been entrusted into. His countenance revealed bold features and an individual of his late twenties. He had short cropped brown hair and eyes like sapphires. He escorted me to room 1897 and reassured me that I was to receive whatever I needed. All I could ask for at that point in time was rest, and so he maneuvered his way out of the room. With a faint click of the door, he was gone and I fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke the next day, it was odd how easily I had been revisited by my dream. The events which had occurred in my unconscious thoughts seemed so real that I knew not what to think or feel. I had dreamt of a cemetery that was filled with dozens of tomb stones. Among
these, one caught my eye. Right central in the cemetery was a grave marked by a giant black marble mass and weighed down by heavy boulders. The words on the stone I could not make out, only a name, possibly Richard or Robert. As I was squinting to decipher the lettering, I blinked and the scene morphed. I was now standing next to the grave which had been flipped and dug up. With my gaze fixed forward, I would not dare look down at the strewn about earth, but an invisible force penetrated my concentration. Slowly I tilted my head down to glance upon the shadowy figure that began to levitate. All I could make out of the figure in the darkness were glowing green eyes and pale hands drenched in blood. I screamed and woke for I felt a hand brush upon my neck. When I arose from my sleep, it was morning and I spotted a beautiful cross pendant on my neck. Just then, a tall man left the room. I would not let it bother me; it was probably one of the hotel employees checking on me. I was obviously uneasy since the occurrences with my fiancée, so I resumed focus on the necklace. I was so drawn to it that I decided I would keep it on. Once I had composed myself and gone off to breakfast, I came across Sir Daniels who informed me that my whole evening had been planned out. He wanted to ensure that I experienced only the best parts of Tanzania. For the most part, my day was executed with ease. It was not until I was returning to the old‐fashioned hotel that I felt a little disturbed. As we were turning the corner onto the road of the hotel, I noticed a cemetery on the left. Instantly, my mind flashed back to the dream I had the night before and cold drops of sweat trickled down between my shoulder blades. Located centrally in the graveyard was a giant black marble tombstone, as I had seen in my dream. Flustered with confusion, I turned from the graveyard and decided that I would retire for the night once I returned to the hotel. Still, it did not make sense. Upon arriving, I had traveled in from the coast to reach the hotel last night. There was no way that I could have crossed the cemetery last night, allowing the site an access into my unconscious thoughts. I was all sorts of confused. Rest would be the only answer. As I lay in bed, I tossed and turned in and out of sleep. My dreams soon became reality and a strange man invaded them. How he got into my room, I cannot recall, but his face seemed familiar. Slight recognition stopped me from tensing up. I allowed him to draw closer as I continued to make out his face. Just as he reached the foot of my bed, I gasped. I had thought him to be a friend, but instead he was the deformed version of a familiar face. I cringed, pulling the covers near to me. He smiled showing fierce pointy teeth. His pale skin glowed in the dark, accentuating his long misshapen head. Still he grew closer.
I had nowhere to escape. When he was to the point of hovering over my face, I felt pain with each and every throb of my heart. It was in this moment that all my sins, flaws, and imperfections came to life. It summoned forth the real truth of why I left home. I had to run away from possible accusations and the reality that I had poisoned my fiancé. I could not bear the possibility of living a life burdened by an unsuitable husband. The hideous man lunged at my face...
Why am I so Strange? Is it the keffiyeh on my head? Is my outfit too long? I just want to walk and people not whisper, not be scared I am a citizen, this treatment I am receiving is wrong I am not a bomber not a terrorist. Why is everyone so visually impaired? Yes, I am Arab, but why am I so strange Should I be ashamed���will this ever change? Is it my brown skin? Is it because I’m wearing a hood? I just want to go in a store and not be followed, every step I take everything I touch all eyes on me I am not a thief; you have me misunderstood I just want to shop, I have money, I have a job, but still I am treated as a criminal to be Yes, I am Black, why am I so strange Should I be ashamed will this ever change? Is it my eyes? Is it my pale skin? I just want to go to school and not be expected to be a calculator, to do people’s nails I do not work in a salon, I am average I do not know everything, and my last name isn’t Yin I am a person like you, I may be Asian but look at me for me and not these tails Yes, I am Chinese, why am I so strange Should I be ashamed will this ever change? This is easy to see Its three ethnicities ABC All living in the same place but gets treated like they do not belong One person does not make an entire group so let’s stop the madness because it has gone on for too long
Distance from the Sun
I heard the sun rise in the morning It sounded likes footsteps in the snow Standing in the midst of darkness Walking on a thin line The sun has a cold heart Its distance is so bleak Curled up in a ball Love it dies to seek The sun, the sun Only wants a friend Alone like an ember Dying to grow old Like a stone the sun is dry Like lightning in the sky A rhyme that tells many lies The sun is very wise Spreading wings like rays It flies throughout the sky I hear the sunset in the night Climbing like a waterfall
Tribute to These Curls
these curls are my identity. something people notice right away, something that i am known for. flowy and blonde, something fun to look at. these curls have been compared to taylor swift’s regularly. a compliment, nonetheless. these curls are my friends. i can count on them always. though i straighten these curls, they are still near and dear to me. these curls are weird curls. they go in all different directions. without these curls, i would not be me.
Tell Me I Can’t and I Will Show You I Can I have always thought of myself as being independent. I love to do things myself and show everyone that a girl can do whatever a guy can, sometimes even a little bit better. This was quite evident my junior year in high school. The other students in the Naval Science (NS) 4 class that year were all male, most of who had dreams of joining the Armed Forces after graduation. Every day was a challenge. I was constantly trying to them to understand that I knew what I was doing, but they always thought otherwise. I was determined to change their “woman‐make‐me‐a‐sandwich” views. I was never the most athletic or the most outspoken, but I had the gift of gaining everyone’s respect and loyalty quickly. This worked well with the underclassmen, but not with the seniors. My ability, along with a lot of hard work, earned me the position of Supply Officer. My job was to keep track of thousands of uniform items, to issue uniforms to cadets, and to replace any worn out or damaged items. Although the senior boys had thought one of their own should have the position, none of them had the computer programing knowledge, the patience, or the people skills to handle it. This was why the Senior Naval Science Instructor (SNSI) chose me. Another thing that really aggravated the seniors was the fact that one of the assistant drill team coaches had chosen me as her Unarmed Drill Team Captain, a position usually saved for a senior. The boys were captains for the Armed Drill Team. “The Armed Team is the man’s team,” they would constantly tell us, even though I and many of my other female teammates had been on the armed team our entire sophomore year. What they didn’t like was the fact that I had some say about the team’s goals, how to achieve them, and who was on which team. “Who cares?” would be the boys’ response when I asked, “What about the Unarmed Team?” In their eyes, the Unarmed Team was just the Junior Varsity team, the team where all the new cadets go. This conflict went on the entire year, even to the National Championship Tournament. They needed a commander for their Unarmed Teams, but none of the boys had any experience commanding the unarmed side. They looked at me and said, “Breeyn, you’re doing this at Nationals.” “Me?!” I asked hesitantly. “Yeah, you! None of us really know what we are doing and we want first place.” I looked at them and thought, “They are crazy!” I had never been to this competition before! I had no idea what to expect, what the routines looked like or what types of floors they were. They were asking me to do this, with only the experience I had from competing at local meets. I knew that they must have been desperate. I looked them in the eyes and said, “I’ll do it!” My teammates looked at me and then at them, pleasantly shocked. Things were starting to change. Drill and Color Guard are extremely competitive sports. The Drill portion consists of a platoon of 12 with a commander in front. There are three events: Inspection, Regulation and Exhibition. Inspection is like the military; the 13 members line up and are questioned by military personnel. Some questions include:
“Who is the president of the United States?” or “What is the cadet to your left’s name?” Regulation is a bit trickier. In this phase, a list of steps (usually between 48‐55) the commander must memorize. This sequence must be performed in order on a floor ranging in size from 50’ by 60’ to the size of a basketball court (roughly 85’ by 75’). Exhibition was the most fun event. This is where the cadets can get creative and add their own style and flare to normal military drills. Each team has five to eight minutes to perform its routine, which is scored on originality of movement, keeping the routine within the time limit, sharpness of the team, and precision of the movements. In this sport, the difference between first and second is usually only three or four points, so every movement matters! Color Guard is a little different. A Color Guard consists of four cadets: two with flags and two with rifles. The movements are similar to those used on the Drill Team, and they only have one event, which is similar to the Regulation phase of the Drill team. The commander has to memorize a series of steps and then execute it in front of three to four military judges. With Color Guard, the difference between first and second is usually only a point or two if you are lucky. Also, it is a male‐dominated sport. The National Tournament is held every February and teams from across the country compete. There are usually 80 or more teams, each wanting to be known as the National Champions. There are about 50 cadets on each team that competes. Ours had just fifteen. You could say that we were a little outnumbered! We went out on the floor which was about 20 square feet shorter than I was used to for Unarmed Exhibition, which was about 20 square feet shorter than I was used to, but I was ready to give it my best. The senior boys hadn’t told that this event often pushed teams into and out of the top three positions. The number of points awarded in the Exhibition events was much greater than that given out in other two. Also, our little team from Oxford High had never placed in the top five for this event, and trophies were only awarded for first through fifth place. “No pressure,” I kept telling myself. I had complete faith in my team and knew we had practiced and perfected our routine. Second place! I went out and did exactly what we had done at practice, and we won second place. Never in the history of Oxford’s Naval Junior Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (NJROTC) had we ever done that! I was beaming as my teammates cried. I looked at them and at the seniors, and I thought about how things were turning around. I, a female and a junior, had done something this unit had never seen. The guys would have to notice that a girl could do just as well and win just as often.
Untitled And so I am at that point in my life Where decisions need deciding Being, as I am, an indecisive person From this I have eternally been hiding Where to? What now? How? When and Why? I need answers, I need peace; the moment draws akin I pause to think; I start pacing Aware that the answers lie within Within where? I ask. Do I dare search my heart? Patience I say, it will come to you, try desperately to convince Ask myself those questions which Have all been long answered since I am on a long journey Several paths, from which one must choose Should I, my instincts follow My logical side instead to use? I am weighing my alternatives, options I consider
Which decisions are smart, I ask, what choices expedient? Which will get me to my destination faster? Which will I eventually resent? I have long chosen happiness and that I long to have Success, peace and ..., that decision was the easiest The difficulty lies in the route, the road which leads thereto Life is like a gamble, decisions like a test. There are huge risks involved; The future has the tenacity of an egg “Deal or no deal” is the predicament, the question Should I take the easy way out, should I cowardly be? Will I always look back, regret, and alter my perception? I am indeed at that point in my life Where decisions need deciding I am an indecisive person How much longer can I remain in hiding?
Insomniac Secret Shh, this is an insomniac’s secret. This paper is my pillow right now. This here is my secret What am I doing? What am I saying? Could that dream have meant something? Am I really here for love? I know you are, you definitely are. I’m so lost! What’s wrong with me? I should just stay here, in my mind! Please don’t come after me, I’m gone… For now I need to figure me out, Because you don’t really know what’s going on with my crazy. My crazy is a verb, it’s every part of my life. Shh, this is a part of how insane I am. My insanity takes over me. Should I be restrained? Hey, should I be put away? What is this? Who are you? What am I doing here? Should I be in this bed? Locked in a trance I call out to my mother, But there’s no answer. The shot in my arm is what calms me down. “I don’t want to be like them.” This is what I tell the doctors. I don’t want to numb myself like they did. I don’t want to become addicted like they did. I don’t want weed or the bottle every day.
I don’t need to pill pop, He is the reason I don’t like medication. All these revelations as the years come The memories are finally coming, Chasing me as my sister spits them out. Could these be real? Am I even real? Is his heart real? Could he be the one to take me away from all of this pain? From the family that destroys me? I cannot save them, Can he save me? Shh, this is my insomniac secret And I’m not even gonna tell myself.
In Any System In any system there lies possibility for Order; even if it only exists for short time/or at borders; Order needs chaos. Same as light and dark/ no two opposite parts will be part/ for too long. The sublime/dance that we humans take part/in must exist. Though we have defecated on Something So natural/pure. It is still: Natural and Pure, or it can be. Either way, it's Passion and Passion is most necessary in Any System. Talent only surmounts so far; only supports So Much. Life and Death most necessary in Any System. All creations embarked on do not Need Sex to drive them. To allow passion to be: Sex Driven is choice. We humans dance in numerous ways; innate to one's self. By Choice, whether Perceived: Natural and Pure. By Choice and Environment: In Any System.
A Storm’s Journey Phoebe was lying on the wide field of grass and she stared into the sky. She observed the sky and saw how it paralleled the earth. She had always enjoyed nature, and loved sitting outside gazing at the sky. The tents were aligned adjacently; boys were in one tent the girls in another. Every year Phoebe’s parents had sent her to this camp, meant to help young adults to grow and mature. Phoebe never got along with anyone else at camp; she thought the girls were too catty, and the camp counselors were too self‐absorbed. Although she hated camp, she was glad she was there with her best friend, Grey. Grey was a shy boy; he had pale skin and was allergic to almost everything imaginable. He wore large thick brown glasses that were too big for his face;, he always had to push the bridge of his glasses up to his face with his index finger. He wore clothes that were oversized for his frame, and he constantly tripped over his jeans. His shoes laces were never tied and he always had to be reminded to tie them. He had freckles on the surface of his skin; his nose was round, he had thin lips that always seemed chapped. Grey was only his nickname; he got this nickname because he had a pessimistic attitude and like a gray cloud, he would always rain on everyone else’s parade. Phoebe turned around and said "Look at Hazel, She thinks she's ‘all that’ because she's named after a color!" “You guys used to be best friends; you’ve been going to this camp ever since you were little.” “She’s stupid; I bet her brain is the size of an ant’s.” Grey laughed and said "Be nice, Phoebe!" "Now that she is Miss. Popular, she thinks she has it all.” Three hours later it began to get dark and windy, the temperature had dropped sharply and the camp counselor told everyone to get ready for bed. Phoebe unzipped her tent door and crawled inside; she shared it with one of the camp counselors. She had a sleeping bag, while her counselor had a manual blow up mattress, adjacent to hers. It was a bright pink tent, very small and cluttered. Phoebe began to doze off. She was dreaming about her little sister, Rebecca, who was about five years old and trapped herself in a hot air balloon that floated away. Phoebe called the police and heard their sirens ringing, along with helicopters circling the air. She kept her eye on the air balloon until it gradually faded away. She then woke up to find out the sirens she had heard in her sleep were real.
"Get out the tents. Get out the tent,” She heard someone shout. She rushed and put on her brown combat boots and her bright yellow jacket. She heard screaming and thought something drastic had happened. She left the tent and saw people running around screaming, “There’s a tornado warning!" yelled one of the councilors. She stood there as the rain poured on her olive colored skin. Her brown, reddish hair was soaked, and water flowed down her thin, neatly arched eyebrows. Her small, pointy nose began to run; her red full lips began to tremble. She was cold; her pink pajamas with small little teddy bears became damp. She watched, as people walked in one direction to shelter. There were people who walked in their flip fops. She saw people walking in socks alone and thought it was disgusting. She appeared still, like a predator stalking its prey. There was nowhere to run. She wanted to go back in her tent, but she knew, if she unzipped her door, it would become flooded or blow away in the wind. Lightning flashed and thunder crackled as if boulders were colliding. "Phoebe, Phoebe!" "Grey?" Grey ran to Phoebe, “We have to find shelter,” he said, as he was running out of breath "I know.” She responded Everyone kept walking north to shelter. There was a big Wal‐Mart that could provide shelter to everyone. Grey and Phoebe held on together with their arms hooked to each other, as if they were walking down the aisle after having just been married. The wind pushed them back as they continued to walk. Then they saw Hazel. She lay flat on her face in the mud, her long blond hair filthy. She had on a plain lime green pajama suit, with her dark brown mink coat. “Should we help her?” asked Grey. Phoebe helped Hazel up, grabbed her shoulders, and steadily lifted her, Hazel was petite standing about 4’11. “Phoebe, it looks like everyone left us?” said Grey. “Are you serious?” she angrily replied. Hazel looked at her; her brown mink coat was now beginning dirty. She was annoyed with her blonde hair. So she instantly took it and threw it over her shoulder, revealing her real, black hair. Grey and Phoebe glanced at each other and looked back at Hazel.
“I can’t do this. I want to go home.” said Hazel. She stood up and the wind was blowing so fiercely that they couldn’t see. “Where are we supposed to go now?” said Grey “There’s a cave up further; we can probably stay there for a while, until the storm dies down,” said Hazel. They followed Hazel. The rain began to fall harder as they walked almost two miles. Until Grey became out of breathe. "Grey, what's wrong!" said Phoebe. “I can't breathe!" he said, almost gasping for breath. It seemed as if he were having an asthma attack. His face began to turn red. He fell to the ground, as the rain covered his face. Phoebe searched for the inhaler in his pocket, but she couldn’t find it. The wind was in her way and she kept losing her grip, “There’s a cave right over there, said Hazel. Phoebe and Hazel carried Grey to the cave; Hazel held on to his legs, while Phoebe had his shoulders. They carried him to the cave. It was pitch black and they couldn’t see anything. Grey was still panting; Phoebe searched and searched until she found the inhaler in his bottom jacket pocket. She put it to his mouth and Grey pressed on it to trigger the medication. “That’s a relief,” he said. “Ok, I’m not going back out there?” he said. “I’m hungry I’m tired” Hazel whined. “Stop complaining.” snapped Phoebe. Grey began to shiver and Phoebe was worried. She took off her jacket and placed it around him. She looked at him, afraid he might have another asthma attack because of the cold and wind, Hazel said “If we all huddle together, we’ll all be warm.” So they put Grey in the middle, clinging together, as if held together with glue. Phoebe looked at Hazel and said “Thanks.” Hazel looked at Phoebe and gave her a smirk. The next morning they walked outside and saw the devastation the tornado had caused.
There were trees that had been uprooted, trees piled on top of each other. They were now ready to walk back to camp. Phoebe stepped outside and saw how the field on the earth paralleled the sky, She observed the sky, now blue again with no gray to hide it, with no clouds to hide it. The birds began to chirp, as the three of them took their time and headed back to camp.
DEVON A. GIBSON
A Reason to Rewind Everyday guns are blazing, blood gushing, souls flying I didn’t know this was a war front. Are we not in the same boat? We need to get back to the beginning. 9 year old humpty dumpty, fast food, hormone induced food Diabetes, high blood pressure, fast life We need to get back to the beginning Metal birds, NASCAR, gas cars, rapid glacier melting, violent storms, Gulf spill, tornados, earthquakes, tsunamis Who told you to mess with me? We need to get back to the beginning when all we had would suffice We need to get to the beginning when nature was happy with us. We must get back.
Anne Vishakha Bellizia Lyons
Solitude Came a big ship that sea capsizes the fond memories kept by your smile take hostage of my heart and increases my pain In the net of passion I'm like a fish my ocean seems dry my veil is torn I dislike life In my little sky the sun shines weakly I no more have nights neither of the stars that shine This is the dark without any clarity By large gray clouds the sky seems to be taken the flowers wither the leaves rejuvenate
and of all the seasons the horizon becomes dark The trees that die the eyes always weeping symbolize my heart bent under the pain to live away from you you, I love a hundred times.
Thank You I remember hearing we weren’t allowed to read I remember hearing we had to take a test to vote I remember hearing we had to sit at the back of the bus I remember hearing we were spit at for attending school I remember hearing about the hatred people expressed towards my people I remember hearing how inferior we were I remember hearing about the people who fought for change, who fought for me I remember it all and I will never forget I can vote I can read I can sit where I want I can attend school where I please Because someone fought for me I will never forget the wonderful works of my ancestors And every chance I get I will say Thank you