Time has flown by, and we have all but reached the end of the semester. For many of us, it is the end of our time at Christendom. The academic year has been full full of joys, full of challenges, full of blessings. This issue of In Corde is one of the fruits of that fullness; a wonderful overflow of experience, beautifully crafted to be shared with the wider community.
My thanks to the artists, poets, and storytellers who have shared their gifts in this issue. My fellow Christendom students never cease to amaze me with their many talents that they have crafted and honed. I respect and admire the courage it takes to share one’s art, to share the fruit one’s heart and labor with others. Special thanks to Anna, the loveliest director of design that anyone could ever ask for; her hard work and tireless dedication have made this possible.
MISSION STATEMENT:
In Corde aims to be God’s “little pencil,” so that through its contributors’ art, poetry, and stories, He may redeem and elevate the human experience.
May these pieces inspire in each of you a richer, more vibrant understanding of the Truth, Goodness, and Beauty which unites all things. I pray that the Giver of all good gifts draws us ever deeper into the careful design of His own work of art, and that one day we may see the beauty of each brushstroke, each letter, each tender space, and that His glory in every thing may open our eyes to the fullness of eternal life.
In Christ, Helen Davis
Editor-in-Chief
+Agamus Te duce, Domine!+ (May we act with You as guide, O Lord!)
Anna Clark, Creative Director, and Helen Davis, Editor-in-Chief.
Julie Wells Photography
What’s Heaven, Mama?
by Juliette Halisky ’25
“Mama?” He dug his small arm deeper into the crook of mine as his head rolled back from its contemplation of the window. I was faced with those long, curling eyelashes that had blinked at me with soulful innocence for nearly five years now.
“What’s Heaven, mama?”
I was never prepared for the questions put to me from the mouth of this child who seemed to think more on the great mysteries of life than I ever had.
It took me a moment to recall the faded religious images of a faraway childhood. “It’s a place where God makes us angels and we say prayers and hop around on golden clouds forever and ever.”
His little brow crinkled into a knot as he looked back off into the distance.
“Oh.”
That was the moment I realized I didn’t want to go to Heaven.
My own angel baby drifted to sleep with that little crease of displeasure between his eyebrows and I realized that he didn’t either, now, because he knew I didn’t.
I slumped into the armchair beside his bed as a terrible, familiar feeling of numbness crept up from the shadows in the room and settled into my limbs. For the first time the full weight of my responsibility for this child pressed down on me, and I knew that I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I didn’t want him to end up like me—unbelieving, barely living—living for one thing only: him.
My mind flashed back to a scene I had spent years fighting to forget. A disheveled closet-of-a-room still marked with the signs of a dying girlhood; the girl herself crouched next to the bed, rocking back and forth. In her hand was a piece of plastic, fingers shut so tightly over it that the joints were white lines of pressure. Bloodshot eyes were too agonized to relieve their pain in tears. Her heartbeat was deafening in her ears, her whole body throbbed with a screaming numbness, because when she uncovered the results embedded in that small piece of plastic, she was either saved or utterly lost. But that wasn’t the problem: there was so little of her left, she didn’t know which result would be her salvation and which would be the death of what was left of her.
Another excruciating minute. Her mother’s face like iron. Her lover’s like a jagged knife.
She wrenched her hand off of the little plastic piece, and with the revelation of two dark lines, the stillness of the room returned.
I felt him inside me. He was mine. He wasn’t anyone else’s. He was my whole hope, my whole life, my whole future. I was someone again because I had him.
Tears were streaming down my face when I realized that I was back where I was safe, with my own love asleep in the crib beside me. Looking upon him, I was suddenly struck with a truth that had been festering within me for years now - that salvation wasn’t a force inside me. It wasn’t any strength or determination of my own.
It was a person.
For the first time, I understood. I felt that a real hand reached out and grasped my face and looked
at me with terrible love: the same love I felt when others had wanted to destroy what had been given to me as my salvation. A real voice spoke my name and it was dripping with the very desire I felt when my agonized eyes first laid upon my little one.
I understood what He had felt, as I saw Him— gasping out His breath—weak from blood loss, red and black and blue; yet with eyes that dipped down into the very depths of joy and silently, in a kaleidoscope of violent love, proclaimed that a little one had been delivered. I felt the words escape my lips, “Heaven is never looking away from You, isn’t it?”
I turned towards my angel boy resting quietly in his small bed. The look on his face had changed to blissful contentment. It’s odd how many lives have been saved in gazing upon the face of a child asleep, wrapped in His soft bedclothes.
The Soil of Life
by Regina Cousino ‘26
The word without the act Is a dead word. Life without love Is no life at all.
How often the Living are dead to life Or the life they are living is dead.
Living what is not life, The grandeur is hidden, And they merely exist.
The selfish pursuit is a life of existence.
But the daily dying, Dying to self, Yes the daily dying Is the soil for life.
Indeed, death unburies life, and then, Only then, It is then we see it For the first time.
To die in order that you might live, Live before you die Is the secret demand, and gift, Of love.
Old Love
by Mikaela Kent
The Tabernacle
by Chloe Costello ’26
Behind closed doors there dwells eternity, Doors wrought and gilded—never enough to reveal the splendor beyond— Unapproachable they seem, and yet
We do not have to pass through them to be within reach. Eternity has dwelt among us that it may dwell within us, In spirit and in truth.
Let me taste of the goodness that lies within! Let eternity pass my lips; Truth upon the tongue, Beauty in the soul, To consume me and fill me
Give me infinity in a cup, Bottomless, yet rimmed with gold, Deeper than the oceans, more resplendent than the heavens— Is that ancient wisdom, power and love To which we empty ourselves and so are filled Overflowing
Wonder and Paradox
by Rebecca Benin ’28
You are miles above the highest peaks And yet You kneel to wash my feet— How could I have The service of a king?
You are gentle, You are kind You are always by my side But still Your power is greater Than the sea and winds combined.
You’re a shepherd You’re the lamb There’s strength and meekness in Your glance How could I know the face of my Creator?
How can You be such an infinite and intimate Savior?
Chivalry
by Bridget Haselbarth
’28
Study in Sir Francis Bernard Dicksee’s “Chivalry”
When I Danced With Her
An Imitation of Byron’s “When We Two Parted”
by Andrew Descalzo ’27
When I danced with her, Hand in hand till the cease, All passed in a blur— Too short a lease.
Warm grew my heart
With each giggle and smile; In song thou and I art One for a while.
She stood there before me, Her friends all around; I stood here in palsy
As if fixed to the ground. Then came my chance, I mustered the nerve To ask for a dance, Without shy reserve.
Step, step
Went my two feet; Hep, hep
Went hers to the beat. Her charms were sweet, Our souls did rhyme; I long, long to repeat When our hearts beat in time.
In secret I yearn— In silence I pray That her heart will return My affection one day. If we dance again And a lease renew, May I remain, then, Hand in hand with you?
The Guttersnipe
by Ruth Bell
Just Say No
by Veronica Webber ’28
Jimmy folded and re-folded the note in his hand. This was it. The big day. The day he had finally screwed himself up to do it.
He was going to rob a bank. And it would be freaking awesome.
He could picture it clearly in his head. He’d stand, patient and unassuming, in line. Then, when it was finally his turn, he’d carefully slide the note over to the teller, and watch in sadistic glee as the blood drained from her face and, with shaking hands, she handed him twenty thousand dollars in cash. Twenty dollar bills, to make it easier to spend.
Oh, Jimmy was looking forward to this. The more he thought about it the more excited he got.
He’d been thinking about this since he was ten years old. Oh, not really in detail, of course; just a random thought that would float through his head now and then about how fun it would be to walk in a bank, hold it up, and then walk out.
The thought took on shape and substance as the years went by, and occasionally Jimmy would think that it was just too bad that he was such a good, law-abiding citizen because if he hadn’t been then he could’ve had some fun!
Who knew that failing his Biology final was all it would take to transform Jimmy from a law-abiding, boring citizen into a desperate, charismatic criminal mastermind? And here he was, a completely different person! Or, no, rather he was the same person, but changed, broken beyond repair, a mere parody of the man he had
once been. Now, with no morals to hold him back any longer, he could finally unleash on the world the destruction he had always hungered for.
Or something like that. Jimmy hadn’t really thought much further than this bank robbery. But he’d get the money, and then things would happen! Or something.
He had decided that long-term plans were for losers—after the Biology final.
Long-term plans were what had gotten him into college in the first place, when he could have been out pursuing a thrilling life of crime! So now he only needed to think about today, and the bank, and nothing further.
Jimmy kept folding the note, in and out, until after about five minutes standing in line he realized that if he folded it much more it would disintegrate. So he stopped and just waited. It was a really long line today, wasn’t it?
Jimmy began to get just the smallest bit impatient. He was on his way to becoming a master criminal! Why was it taking so long? Couldn’t that teller work any faster? What was the bank paying its employees to do all day?
Jimmy stuck his hands in his pockets and thought that maybe he should have brought a gun. But those were way too hard to get. Whatever, he was completely confident that his natural talent in being vaguely menacing and acutely threatening would be enough, at least today. Maybe later he would get a gun, and engrave his name on the side. In gold. Yeah. That would be cool.
When Jimmy emerged from these fantasies there was only one person left ahead of him in line.
He gripped the note and steeled himself. This was it. His big moment. The moment that people would talk about in true crime podcasts and low-budget docudramas for years to come. The day Jimmy “Blue Eyes” Henderson began his life of crime.
Jimmy held in a chuckle as he strolled confidently up to the teller.
He glanced at the teller, not sparing the fortysomething woman behind the desk a second thought. She didn’t look like she’d give any trouble.
Jimmy slid the note across to her without a word, propping himself up on one elbow as he did so. Then he simply waited.
She opened and looked at the note. Then she refolded it.
Without even bothering to look up she said: “No.”
Jimmy replied with, “I’d like the twenties tied up neatly with red string.” Then he registered what she’d said.
“Wait, what?” The confident lean he had thrown himself into upon reaching the counter was starting to get rather unstable. Jimmy’s elbow began sliding.
“I said no.” She sounded tired.
Jimmy gave her more than just a glance this time. She appeared to be in her mid-forties, wearing cat’s eye glasses, with darkness under her eyes, and a ponytail that proclaimed she was done with life.
“But-but you can’t just say no!” Jimmy protested. He was feeling very confused. He had handed her the note. The note that told her he was robbing the place. The note that told her to give him twenty thousand dollars in twenty dollar bills.
In a moment of horror Jimmy wondered if he had given her the wrong note. Hadn’t he had some old grocery list in his pocket? Maybe he
had accidentally given her that instead! How embarrassing! For both of them! But if that was the case then he’d simply apologize for his mistake, give her the actual note, and they could proceed as usual.
Jimmy dug into his pockets and pulled out…an old grocery list. He had given her the right note.
Then why was she acting like this?
The woman was talking. She said no again.
Jimmy decided to stop playing nice. He was a desperate criminal, darn it! He should start acting like one!
“Listen,” he hissed. He managed to lean in on just one elbow, at an angle, without falling over, which was quite impressive, if he did say so himself. “I don’t got a lot of time. I need the money now. And we can either do this the easy way or…” he cracked his knuckles in what was definitely a menacing way. “The hard way.”
The woman sighed a very deep sigh that caused Jimmy to have flashbacks to his Aunt Enid who expressed her disappointment in him in exactly that same way. It was very disconcerting.
“No means no, kid.”
“I’m not asking,” Jimmy growled, lacing his voice with extra danger.
“I said no.”
This…wasn’t working. But Jimmy was nothing if not resourceful so he quickly moved on to a different tactic. “You have to. It’s the rules. I mean it’s the law. You don’t want to break the law, do you? Wind up like me?” Jimmy was very proud of the emotion in his voice. Just enough hardened criminal mixed in with a touch of “I was a better man once.” Absolutely perfect. He could have been a movie star.
The woman just stared at him. Then one corner of her mouth twitched, then the other, and then she began to laugh. Quietly at first, just little giggles, but it got louder, and louder, and soon there was a significant turning of heads in their direction.
This actually did make Jimmy slip off his elbow. He nearly fell forward but caught himself just in time, standing there feeling very uncomfortable as the woman laughed for a very, very long time.
“Stop that!” Jimmy hissed, and was again struck by how much this random bank woman reminded him of Aunt Enid. She had a laugh like that too.
“Just hand it over, alright? C’mon, it’s not that hard!” Jimmy gritted out. Why did everyone have to make everything so freaking difficult? Just like Professor Clark with the Biology final! Those last seventeen questions weren’t even needed!
“I-I know it’s the rules,” she wheezed. She pushed her hand under her glasses and wiped her eyes, finally getting herself under control. “I-I know.”
“Then just do it already!” Jimmy gripped the counter menacingly. “I’m almost done playing nice!”
“It’s still no.”
Jimmy opened his mouth but the woman held up a finger to tell him to be quiet.
…Just like Aunt Enid. Why…
“Firstly I have just realized that I care about very little. My husband left me a week ago and took my mother’s silverware. And the car. After that getting shot or whatever you plan to do doesn’t really bother me. It probably should but that’s not the point. Second, I know it’s the rules but I always thought it was stupid. That just convinces people to go rob more banks. Why does that rule even exist? Who thought that was a good idea? Third, and most importantly…” Here she leaned forward, and began to giggle again before stopping herself.
“Third and most importantly, giving you twenty thousand dollars in twenty dollar bills is just plain stupid. Did you even do the math? That’s one thousand twenty dollar bills.
How in the world are you going to carry one thousand twenty dollar bills? You don’t even have a backpack! What, are you going to stuff them down your shirt? That would be pretty funny, actually. Maybe I should just give you the money, just to watch you try and carry it out.” Jimmy just stared at her. Up close she kinda even looked like Aunt Enid too.
And…he actually hadn’t done the math. That was…that was a lot of paper…
The whole bank robbing thing was starting to look a lot less appealing.
Jimmy began to back away, very very slowly. As he did the woman asked, still half giggling, “Would you like to make a deposit instead? Open up a savings account?”
Jimmy just kept backing up. The people, if there were any still in the bank – which was hard for him to tell at this moment because his vision had kinda narrowed down exclusively on this woman who may or may not have been Aunt Enid by this point – anyway the people parted like the Red Sea behind him.
Jimmy eventually felt the door in his back, and reached a hand behind to open it. He did not take his eyes off the Probably-MaybeHopefully-Not-Aunt-Enid teller. He had a weird irrational thought that if he took his eyes off her she’d follow him home or something.
He opened the door and ran out.
He could have sworn he heard her laughing.
Jimmy decided that he probably had to work his way up to banks. He was still going to be a master criminal just…not yet.
Maybe he’d retake Biology and become a mad scientist or something.
The Rite of Spring
Based on Igor Stravinsky’s “The Rite of Spring”
by Chloe Costello ’26
It is spring and the birds are chirping, Chirping as they feed new life in their nests We shall pipe and flute as they do, Pipe and flute as we feed new life with death
It is spring and the flowers are blooming, Blooming like ten virgins before the tribe Ritually conceived and ritually to die My beauty shall end that theirs may survive
It is spring and the sun is beaming, Beaming down on me as I weep His heat will turn cruel in the summer months But gently, gently will he smile if I sleep
It is spring and the drums are beating, Beating like my throbbing heart I convulse, gasping out my life’s breath As the breeze softly stirs the trees
Ecstasy
by Moira Haggerty
‘27
Copy of Maxfield Parrish’s “Ecstasy”
Witch-King
by Rachel Cermak
’26
Mir Adamah
The desert sands so scorch my calloused feet; The salty sweat doth sting my bleeding hand. All bread bereft, I wander off to work At once the slave and tyrant of the land.
Once I reclined at ease in sylvan shade; In blessèd company I did abide. The lord of beasts and birds and bones was man With whole of soul and body satisfied.
Now piercing pains of hunger grip me hard; I fight the earth for ev’ry scrap I eat. Unhappy fault has borne such bitter fruit; My choice has cost me all that once was sweet.
Creation cold, no comfort grants to me; The barren trees stand distant, deaf, and dumb. The wild beasts, whom once I called my friends In shadows lurk, to longing call are numb.
To empty heaven sounds my fruitless groan; I cry, “Is man condemned to rot alone?”
by William Cleary ‘28, Mary Clare Cowan ‘28, Mary Rose Lazzuri ‘28, Elleighana Ljevar ‘28, and Rino Picconi ‘27
Word upon the Waves
by Clare Rodriguez ’27
The clouds are piling, dark and thick, The wind blows high and shrill, The fishing vessel’s far from shore, But sleeps the Captain still.
The waves are crashing ev’ry side, The ship they nearly fill, The rain in sheets comes pouring down, And sleeps the Captain still.
The crewmen quake, their hands fall slack, As even brave men’s will, They wonder, ’midst their mortal fear, “How sleeps our Captain still?”
They rouse Him, all remembering How He had healed the ill, So surely He might aid them now And not go sleeping still!
He rises, and His awful glance More than the storm does chill. He looks upon the wind and waves And bids them all: “Be still!”
The clouds reveal a dome of sky, The wind subsides to nil, The waves all gently lap the boat, The crewmen wonder still.
They Know Not What They Do
by Mikaela Kent
’27
Heaven’s Child
To Kolbe
by Meaghan Pierce ’25
I think of you, o little one, Nephew or niece you would have been. Four long winters have come and fled, But fixed in my heart is the moment when
The bitter sleet beat on the roof, Mom’s voice was low in the other room. Laughter was stilled and tears were shed The day you left your mother’s womb.
Alone over ice-blown fields I walked; Weakly defiant, I wrestled the Lord, For He who made your mother’s heart Did not prevent the piercing sword.
We scarcely knew you were alive Before you slipped through heaven’s gate; Why did God call you away so soon? Was He impatient? Could He not wait?
The twinkling lights of December nights Gave no answer, and neither did He. Child who now knows His gracious will, Wipe our eyes that we too may see!
Tonight your grave is blanketed white; Your brothers are sleeping, faces hid, Your parents still weeping, in their hearts, Because God holds you close, but they never did.
Goodnight
by Kaela Catabui ’26
Oh darling, it is time to rest your head. And take your weight from off your weary feet. Yes, sleep now. It is time to go abed For peace and soothing times are yours to meet. Oh lay aside the weary worries now And lay aside the fears and doubts in mind. No longer think of when or why or how. Just let them flee; to your own peace be kind. Now quiet all the voices preaching shame. Release all of the bothering regrets, For you’re the only one who placed that blame, And let your anguish with the sun now set Let angels watch you through the night and keep You safe. Give it to God and go to sleep.
Balloons
by Elizabeth Koach ’28
Delicate, short-lived. How can kids adore balloons? Unafraid to love.
Green Eyes
by Ruth Bell ’27
Earthy Beauty
A Potato Poem
by Ruth Bell ‘27 and Megan Yee ‘27
Low ‘neath ground lies a “rough, ugly” Root, A texture attached to a queer-shaped shoot, And scent of earth deep in its form; With neighbors that vary like drops in a storm.
But this Root has a purpose. In fact, more than one, And ‘tis not just reposing In earth warmed by the sun.
The culinary, among other, arts attest to this claim; Mashed, fried, baked, —Molded, shaped Name such, the Root has had its fame.
It’s given life’s great nourishment In times dark as soot. It’s been a gift splendidly lent: This simple, yet beautiful Root.
Meditations on Rain
by John Dillon ’25
The rain is beautiful It brings peace and life, Nourishing the parchèd soil Which in graceful passivity receives The blessing of the rain
It washes us, drenches us, fills us With its God endowèd weight and heft That penetrates clothes and the skin Feels the break of droplets Falling gently on all things
These tears of Heaven Shed in love, in grace, in wrath Cover all, save those things that In the deepest caverns dwell Far and hidden from
The Earth and all its creatures Who know the sweetness and the terror Of the Rain
There is no music like the rain The melody of God It crashes, patters, pours, and drives With ease, and its awful power wreaks Both life and all great devastations. The same world blessed at first with rain Was swept and killed by flood. And lo! Adrift amongst the azure deep How few were saved alongside nature’s pairs. Yet God! there is no music like the rain! It crashes down in droves upon
Weakened flesh, making man part Of the symphony of leaves, and lakes, and stone
That all these hosts of drops Bind in cherished unity, The world they touch made one in God’s benediction
Falling against this fertile Earth
Who in turn bears fruit and bud
To satiate man’s maw and make him meek By all terrestrial beauty wrought about him.
So Heaven waters the ground below, And thus does this Earth reflect our Heaven.
It stills those wild, enflamèd hearts
That rage and chase and war and wound
All round the world in dry, in freezing, and in heat
But áh! The raín, it cómes!
Causing beast to bed and man to wonder Marveling at darkened skies, The smell of earth, and the richness Brought by Water.
The whole world pauses, watching and listening In solemn prayer and silence, For all the world, both beast and reason’d man, Was made to sense
The Baptism of Creation
Each shower renews by outward sign The uncounted mass of tears thus shed Upon the sullen vale And yet they too display
That first fall of rain which cleansed The world and gave it life.
Each drop reflects a microcosm Of the world around it, And each made thing graced by drops Imbibes the world of Truth therein.
Following the Light
by
Rino Picconi
Alto Tenor Bass
by Elizabeth Koach ’28
If you want to know humility Sing harmony.
You’ll strain and sweat for the stage Yet never be the main.
If you want to know humility Sing harmony.
If you want to know friendship Sing harmony. Section up your little choir Work your part and you’ll inspire. If you want to know friendship Sing harmony.
If you want to know art Sing harmony.
Because of you the Star Can shine farther than far.
If you want to know art, Sing harmony.
If you want to know joy Sing harmony. For the Lord made your voice And made you with a choice. If you want to know joy Sing harmony.
Ballad of Time
Once before I was, Was truly I made, When dark and light was To show that things fade.
by Ruth Bell ’27 & Megan Yee ‘27
A creature am I —Although it is not apparent— The movement of things that fly I mark as Time Errant.
They say I move quickly When one enjoys oneself, And dwindle slowly When sorrow and pain hinder health.
In the beginning when flesh was made, I witnessed the fatal fall, Then a debt was to be paid To the Almighty who created all.
There was a scene I once saw Where ugly sin brewed, The towns which broke the law In fiery rain then stewed.
I saw my beautiful France, Overrun by violent foe, Who struck through with a lance, The one true Faith and gave Her woe.
I cried over this country, And lamented at the death of youth, But beamed when I did see, The Vendéens defend the Truth.
They fought with a true valiance, In bloody battles long. But reflected the Almighty’s brilliance, With their brave battle song.
Another event of great import I witnessed of the Lady in White To three children her warnings were of this sort: To help the world go right.
Sins to keep at bay, Portugal’s message with the dancing sun, Offered the answer: a rosary to pray Leading to peace for everyone.
But the most beautiful event I did see Was a moment when all was made new, That place near Galilee Where Death was defeated true.
He embraced a humble Passion To free those from sin And give them proper ration And lead them all to Him.
The Canyon
Copy of Maxfield Parrish’s “The Canyon”
by Moira Haggerty
Duc In Altum
by Kaela Catabui ’26
O, duc in altum! Put out to the deep! O, Venture forth beyond the comfort zone, For day is short and life, it will not keep And now is not the time to stay alone. O, duc in altum! Face down the unknown Regardless of the fear for life or limb. Lift up the shield! The spear and arrow hone, And out unto the darkness carry Him. O, duc in altum! Let not prospects grim Induce a doubt that cripples weary souls O, galvanize and go not out on whim But movéd by the stoked and blazing coals. O duc in altum! Put out to the deep And do not fear what lies beyond death’s sleep.
Confronting the Beast
by Rino Picconi ’27
“ “
When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him
