23-24 EHS Quill & Canvas Review

POPQUIZ:Whatisonewayyourlifehaschangedrecently?

Takeyourtimetothinkitover-we’reinnorush.

Okay,nowyoucantellusPerhapsyou’vestartedacoolpodcast,boughtapinkphonecase,ormovedintoanewhouse todayMaybeyou’vediscoveredabuddingfriendship,andyou’reexcitedtowatchyourrelationshipgrowMaybeyou’ve lostsomeonerecently,andyou’restillinthethroesofgriefNomatterhowsignificantyourresponseis,youprobably didn’thavetosearchveryhardtofinditInfact,maybeyouthoughtofseveralrecentchanges,andyoufounditdifficult tochoosejustoneNoworries-thatwasthepoint,anyway

Today,weliveinhigh-paced,technologicalsocieties.Atanygivenpointintime,ourclosestfriendslivemerelyafinger swipeawayfromus(evenwhenthey’rehalfwayacrosstheglobe).Shouldwesochoose,wearecapableofdiscoveringany andeverythingwewant,allfromthecomfortofourownhomes.Andwhileweresearchtoourheart’scontent,westand aswitnessestosocialmedia’smicrotrends,whichzippastusintheblinkofaneye.Everyday,ourbrainsprocessthousands ofminusculechangestoourselves,ourenvironments,andourrelationships;moresothaneverbefore Theeasewith whichyoucangetcaughtupinthisworldisfrightening;ifyoudon’tpaycloseattention,youmightjustmissitall

Recently,societiesacrosstheglobepausedtorecognizeanimportantoccasion:thefour-yearanniversaryoftheCOVID19pandemicandtheresultingshutdownThisanniversarycameandwent,justaseverythingelsehas,butwewereleft feeling...hollow.SurelyitwasonlyyesterdaythatweweresittinginourhomesonZoomcalls,stockingupontoilet paper,andanxiouslyawaitingvaccines?Butno,ittrulyhadbeenfouryears,andsomuchwasdifferent.Withoutour realizing,theminitrends,thesocialmediafads,andtheclichéshadalladdedup.Suddenly,wealllookedaroundand foundthatnothingwasquitesofamiliaranymore.

We,theeditorialstaff,recognizethatinstanceslikethiscanbequitestartlingPerhapsyou’requestioninghowsomuch haschangedwithoutyoueverfullyrealizingitPerhapsyoufindyourselfsearchingforawaytoslowdownandremainin thispresentmomentjustalittlebitlongerAndyet,nomatterhowhardyoutry,thedaysskipawayfromyou,seemingly withtheintentofwreakinghavoconyourlifeonceagainTimeisapeskylittlebugger,afterall

So,whatdoyoudo?

Well,youcantrytopreservethingsexactlythewaytheyare.Youcanfightthechangeandinsistonstayingthesame. Thatisalwaysanoption.Unfortunately,we’vebeenratherunsuccessfulinpatentingatime-travelmachinetomakethat possible,andmanylicensedtherapistswouldprobablyadviseagainstdoingso,anyway.Despiteourbestefforts,itwould appearthatyoutrulycannothaveanysenseofcontinuitywithoutalsoundergoingchange.Inordertofullyappreciatethe thingsinyourlifethatremainthesame,youmustalsobeabletoembracethatwhichisdifferent

So,withtimetraveloutoftheoption,we,theeditorialstaff,havedonethenextbestthingandcreatedthisliterary magazineWehopethat,asyoureadthroughit,someofthepiecesmightstrikeachordwithyourownlivedexperiences, justastheyhaveforus.Certainly,changecanbescaryattimes,butperhapsasyoufilterthroughthepages,youcanfilter throughthestress,too.Thecollectionofworkscompiledbeforeyouillustratesthatyouarenevertrulyaloneinyour struggles.Thereareotherstudentsallaroundyougoingthroughsimilarexperiences-ifonlyyouarewillingtolistento theirstories.Maytheirvoicesspeaktoyouinthismoment.

Thetimewillpassusbyeitherway-wecanonlyhopetoenjoyit.

Sincerely,

EDITOR’S NOTE

Quill&CanvasReview

TABLE OF CONTENTS

POETRY

MiloBia

NeoAbbey

P O E T R Y

lOAD

Dripdrip

Aquietnight

Asleeplessnight

It’sonmymind

Itwon'tleave

Dripdrip

Ican'tstopthinkingaboutit

Thatsmile

Thatlaugh, Thewaythatlighttakesmein, Thewaythelightreflectsthoseeyes

Almostlikestainedglass, Thewayitmakesmefeel, I'mhappy.

Forthefirsttimeinalongtime I'msmilingback.

Taptaptap

Itmakesmelaugh

Though,

Ican'tseeit

Ithidesbehindthatglow

But,

Astheycomeandgo

Anewonewillshow

Personafterperson

Butthisone, Isdifferent

Thisoneisperfect

Thisone

Isyou

Thewoodenswing Whooshesbackandforth

WhereIusedtosit

Asayoungchild

Wheremanymemories Weremade

Mychildhood Swinginginandout Inrhythmicarcs: Upanddown,upanddown

Theswing, Handcraftedbymyfather Boltedtothewalnuttree

Inourunworldlybackyard, Wasmylifeasachild

Thispreciousgift Swingsbackandforth

Backandforth Likeapendulum

Itswingsinandout

ButInolongersitinit; Manyyearspass Anditstillswings

ButIstandasideandwatch Whilethecenturiesoldolivewood Rotsandcrumbles, Piecesflyingoffasitswings;

Inandout, Upanddown, Backandforth, AndIwonder WhatcouldIhavedonedifferently? Whatiswrongwithme?

WhydoIjustletmychildhood, ThelifeIgrewupwith, Fadeaway

Untilnothingisleft Butasinglesplinterofhope Patheticallydanglingonarustychain?

Itrytogetonitagain, Graspingthelastpieceofmybelief ButIjustfalloff Justasthefragmentsofwooddid Itryrebuildingit, Butitjustturnstoashinmypalms

Myfather,Ihaveforsakenthee!

Thereisnothingleftofthis Thiswayoflifehasisolateditself, Andthelackofithasisolatedme, Inaone-sidedworld

WhereeveryoneIgrewupwith Isstillswingingstrongly

WhileIcontinuouslyfall Andscrapemyknee, Istarttowonder Istheremorethanjustthisswing?

Ifinallyfindthecourage Tolookbeyondtherestrictivefence Myfatherlaidaroundthebackyard Andseeawholenewworld Thatisjustrightforme

AsIstepoutside Andseelightcomingfrom Thesocalleddarkness, Myswingfinallystopsmoving Andthelastshredofwood Oftheswingmyfatherpreparedforme Fallstotheground

Leavingnothingbutanunfaithfulchain Hopelesslydanglingfromthetree.

ECHO AND EMBER

EchoandEmber Asthetiderollsin AndtheMoonrises Theechoofmyagony Returns Inthewavesoftheocean.

Theembersofmyheart makeablaze, Recoveringfromtherain Myheartandmind–Nolongerinsync.

Mybodyandsoul Twodifferentwavelengths. Yourstorm Leftmeblackandbruised.

Theechoofmyagonyisreflected Ontomylifeandeyes Thechambersofmyheart rebuildwhatwasoncethere ButastheMoonisslowlyreplaced AndtheTideschange MyheartwillbeAblaze.

Myagonywanes.

Cuban-american history lesson

J E S S C O M B E S T

Beforefive-year-oldElianGonzálezwatchedhismotherdrownintheStraits and,nestledinaninnertube, suddenlyfoundhimselfsurroundedbyaschoolofdolphins andvisionsofherleadinghimsafelyashore

BeforetheBalseros,whenFidelsaid Whoever wants to leave, leave!

When100,000Cubansclimbedintorefrigerators,raftsmadefromkitchentables,bedroomdoors,andset sailacrosstheshark-infestedwaters.

Beforeonly31,000madeit.

BeforetherefugeesflockedtoLittleHavana andsettledinMáximoGómezPark, playingdominoesanddrinkingcaféconleche.Radiosblaring La negra tiene tumbao. Cigarstuckedbetweenwidesmilesandthroatylaughs. Glassesconcealingeyes,tiredandsad.

Beforethecoupthatshatteredafragiledemocracy

ThesoundsofthefiringsquadechoedthroughtheHavanajail andmisabuelosabandonedeverythingtheyhadbuilt,everythingtheyhadknowntotaketheirthree childrentoaforeignlandwheretheyhadnothing.

Nolanguage. Noculture. Nofamily. Nothing. Nada buthope.

Liketheoneswhocamebefore

Hugs

Ifearhuggingpeoplefortoolong forIdon'twanttobejudged ofbeingdeprivedoflove butI'mlefttowonder whatit'sliketobeheld byarmsthatwouldwarmyoursoul thelongertheyclungtoyou

ONE DAY...

D U C - T R I D O

Ihopeyounevertellyourself thatyouhavetolookacertainway tofeelloved ortobebeautiful ortohaveworth becauseyourbeautyisnotskin-deep Itissomuchmorethanthat andoneday, someonewillfallinlove withyourlaughter andthewaytheuniversestandsstill whenyoubreathe

BOTTLE IT UP

It'shappeningagain

It'sbeenhappeninginmyhead

Athought

Acry

Ican'tseemtohelpit

Thisisn'tright

I'lljustbottleitup

Pop

Theregoesathought

Pop

There'sanotherthought

OneaftertheotherIbottlethemup

Asadthoughttoagoodone

Ohmynotagain

Anotherbottletotheshelf

I'mrunningoutofspace

Crash

Woops

Theyallsawit

Thatsillylittleraincloud

Itdoesn'twanttoleave

Theywon'tnotice

Theydon'tcare

Theyneverdid

I'llneedabiggerbottleforthisone.

I Z Z I E I N T R I A G O

Italwayshappensinaflash Seeingyourname Rememberinghowitwas Lastyear Hearingastory, AndsuddenlyIfeel Coldhandswrappingaround Myheart, Mylungs, UntilIforgethowtobreathe. AndIknowyoushouldn’ttrytopredictthefuture, Forfearofthespiritsyoucouldunleash, ButIfeellikelhaveghostslivinginsideme, AndIcan’thelpbuttowonderwhowillbenext. Ineverthoughtitwaspossibleforyoutoleave, AndnowIampainfullyawareofhowmanypeoplehaveleft, Andhowmanypeoplecouldleavesoon. Iamastonishedathowapersoncanbe Whollyaliveonthisearth Andalso Gone

Youhavebecomeaghostinmymemory, Theoutlinegettingfainter Eachmoment. Iwatchasyoufadeaway, Thethingsyoucreateddiscarded, Thememoriesbecomingfainter Likeatrueghost. WhenItalktoyouIcanphysicallyfeelthedistance Stretching Freezingitshandsoverus. AndwhenIvisittheplacesweusedtoinhabit, Ifeelaneeriechillseepoverme

Throughme

Inme

Iwanttoleavethisplace AndIwanttostay.

Clutchingyourletterstomyheartlikeashield, Protectingmefromthehurricaneofchange

Swirlingaroundme

IknowI’llhavemanymorefriends, ButIdon’twanttoloseasingleoneofyou Myghosts

AsmuchasIwanttotalktoyou Idon’t.

Itwillbeawkward, Itellmyself

They’vemovedon, Becausethetruthis I’mscaredofghosts. Whereconversationonceusedtoflowrapidlythereisnow Afrozenriver

Feelingasimpersonal Asagraveyard.

Ihugeveryonearoundmetighter, Quietlywillingthemtostaywithmeforever. Idreadadaywhenourfriendshipdissolvesinto Socialmediafriends, Likesandoccasionalbirthdaymessages

Yes,Iknowchangeisgood, ButIdon’twanttowatchus Fade.

FORGOTTEN MEMORIES

N E O A B B E Y

Everythingnowisallinblackandgrey

Nocolor

Nolight

Everythingthatwasoncethereisnowlost

Gonewiththewind

Icanfeelthemelancholythattearsthroughme

Likeastormbeatingdownonahouse

Tearingattheroof

Thewindows

Thehealth

It'stearingthroughme

Youwerethelightonmychildhood

Youwerethesunonmywindydays

Soonenoughwewillmeetagain.

BENEATH THE ROLLING, WANTON WAVES

S O R E N S M I T H

Acertaincalmsettlesover,whenyouarebeneath beneaththesurfaceoftheground,ofthe floorundertheirfeet.Theirvoicesarerolling andtheyspeaktoyourweakness.Theyarecruelandwanton. Butstill.Thereisacalmnesstobefound,beneaththewaves.

E L I Z A W A Y

Sheisthewind,

Hervoiceechoesinmyears

Sheisrelentless

Andissomehowalwaysmoreintenseonarainyday

Sheistheocean,

Unpredictableandfulloflife

Sheistenacious

AndIalwaysseemtoleavewithmyhairatangledmess

Sheisacloud,

Softascottoncandy

Sheisrestless

Andinfoggymornings,Ifeelclosertoherthanever

Sheisarainforest,

Sheisaforce. SHE is the wind

Withanenthrallingmystery

Sheisdeafening

Andsheshouldneverapologizefortakingupspace

Sheisthesnow, Showingthere'sbeautyinsilence

Sheisblinding

Andthemeresightofhersendsshockwavesthroughanentire town

Sheisfire, Aninvitingwarmthradiatesfromherpores

Sheiscunning

Andherglancecanbothsaveandkill

THE TOOTH FAIRY

L I N H L E

Mybrotherlosthistoothtoday Heslippedthethingunderhispillowwhereitlay smoothandmilkyandwhite.

Thesoftlazysunbeamsthatrestedlikeablanketofthemorningafter werebrokenbyshoutsofdelight Andfivedollars Andthirty-threecents–theexactamountthatvanished fromourcabinetabovethesink.

Heboughtabagofchipswithit.

Now,ifteethwerefivethirty-threeapiece-Ilookeditup-youlosetwentyinyourlifetime; Iwouldhaveamouthfulworthonehundredandsixdollarsandsixcents.

Butmymouthwasworthnone.

IfirstmettheFairyina Learn To Read English book. Isawher: Goldencurlssweptbehindadaintyear tuckingawayaquarterunderthefeatheredpillowofalittlesleepingblonde. Iwantedthat,too.

Sowhenmyfirsttoothgotlodgedinanapple andstayed Iputitundermyownpillowandresteddownmyheadofbeetleblackhair. BeforeIshutmyeyes,ItoldmyparentsaboutHer–BecauseIalwayshadaninkling. Tomakehermine,Ihadtoask.

Shewasn’tforme,afterall SoI’llwritemyownchildhood. Butit’shardtoexplainthingsatagefive andacrossalanguage,too.

Mynextmorningwasn’tbrokenbyshoutsofdelight orfivethirty-three. Orfive. Orone Oraquarter.

Themorningafterwasn’teither.

Now:

AsIeatmybrother’schips, onegetslodgedinmythroat. Thelump Ofanger Ofguilt. Ofbitterness. Ofresentment

HowcanIberesentful?

HowcanIberesentful whenmymomspendsherlifehunching, shapingacoffinnail, nailingherowncoffin

forsomeAmericanDream?

Andmydad’snosecrumbles fromasharpacetonestench, andhecannolongertaste thebitterness ofacoldandforeignland

forsomeAmericanDream?

HowcanIberesentful? Istillam.

MaybeInevergrewupatall. IjustwantedaToothFairy likemylittleGoldenfriends.

Thedifferencebetween mylittlebrotherandme isthathehadme and sixyears ofassimilation.

A valediction on Heartache

S O R E N S M I T H

Romancewasawildlittlebird thatquiteenjoyedpeckingawayatmyheart, Itstolebitsandpiecesofmeeverytimeitvisited Andseeminglyleftnothinginreturn

Andwithoutfail,thatbirdeludedmygrasp Evenwhileitjoyfullychirpedinmyear

Soyoucanimaginemyexcitementwhen,oneevening,Icaughtit Orrather,her

Myinfatuationwithherboreastrikingresemblancetoatsunami Agrand,heavenlywaveofpleasantnothingsandillustriousgifts Infatuationfilledmylungswiththeheadyillusionofromance Indeed,Iwascaptivatedbyher

Herlove,hersmell,hertaste

AsifonedayIwouldrunoutofit

Astimemarchedonwards,ignorancebecameablessing Itcastahazeovermyeyes

Andletmepretendforjustalittlewhilelonger

Ignorancewassickeninglysweet,likebadHalloweencandy Manufacturedtohidethetruth

Inevitably,clarityhitmelikeafreighttrain

Ididn'tlaughthewayIusedto Didn'thopethewayIusedto Didn'tgrowgiddythewayIusedto Nottoseeher

Notanymore

Andshame...shameleftnoroomtohide Itovertookmewithoutmercy

Narrowedintoatoothpickinmyear

Shamewasaconstantjabrightwhereithurtthemost "I did this to us " "My fault"

...That'sjustthewayofthings

Whenwepartedways,itwasamessy,loathsomeordeal Fullofofgriefforwhatcouldhavebeen Andterroratalifewithouteachother Herabsencewrungoutmyorgansandleftthemwrinkledanddry Youcould'veusedmypoorhearttowashdirtydishes (That'sjustthewayofthings)

Heartachewascharacterisedbyitscold,cruelgaze Itwrappedaroundmyheels Slitheredbetweenmytoes Andpooledinthecrevicesofmyjoints UntilIcouldhavedrownedinitsviscosity (That'sjustthewayofthings)

Butlove-itwouldappear-hasdonemein BecauseIwasnaiveenoughtohope Thatmysheerforceofwillwouldbesufficient Topushusthroughtheyear Andinsuchamannerthatissodreadfullyme Icouldneverloveherinthewayshelovedme (That'sjustthewayofthings)

Sometimes,youcantastelove,asifitwerealollipoponyourtongue Butloveisnotalwayswarmsugarandflushedroses

Sometimes,youhavetolovesomeoneenoughtoletthemgo Andfindthecouragetoloveyourselfwithoutthem

Isupposethat'sjustthewayofthings

AT THE END

OF THE

O R E N S M I T H

WEEK

It’stheendoftheweek,andIamthree I’mshort,andI’msmallThepewshaveroomforme Idon’twanttoholdstill;Iwanttoshoutandplay! …Butthepewsatthechurchhaveroomforme.

I’mstilljustakid,soI’mblindtotheworld Ikeepmygazeontheseats,andtheirdarkgreenswirls Skirtsall‘roundsoundalight,softswish, asIwalkthroughthehalls-justasmall,younggirl.

It’stheendoftheweek,butnowIamnine Isitatmypew,inthischurchwhichismine. Itrytobegood,andItrytokeepstill, forIwanttohavefaith...mostofthetime

Theypreachofgrandthings,whichlayjustoutofsight andifIheedtheirwords,thenImight findmyplaceinthischurch,withitslightslitsobright soIstayinmyplace,keepmygripfirmandtight

It’stheendoftheweek,andIamateen WillIholdtomypew?It’syettobeseen Thepoolsofmyheartarefullofdoubt ButIdon’twanttoleaveandruinthisdream

Thedarkgreenseats,theyarenotthesame. Northeskirtsorthelights,thefloorsorthestains WhydoIcare,andwhendidtheychange? Whendidthischurchstarttocausemepain?

It’stheendoftheweek,andIamnotthree I’mstillshortandsmall,butthere’snoroomforme Noroomforagirl,whoasksfartoomuch Noroomforagirl,whoknowswhatshesees

NowIknowthatthechurchdidnotchange Ijustgrewtoobold,tooqueer,toostrange SoIturntailandleave,walkrightoutthatdoor Iwon’tstayinthispew,thishome,thiscage.

It’stheendoftheweek,butthistimeI’mfree AndIknowthattheworldwillhaveroomforme.

IN A ROOM FULL OF MEN

U D R E Y R O S E N

Onmyfirstdayinaroomfullofmen, Ilearnedmyperfectionisequaltoaman’sparticipation

SoIkeptmyheaddownandbegantowork. EachdayI’dwalkintoclass, I’dfeeltheireyesboreintomysoul andplanttheseedsofselfdoubtinmybrain

Iquicklylearnedtolistentoeachwordthey’dmutter Irememberoverhearing“she’ssuchawhore.” Ineverknewthegirltheytalkedabout, butIknewIcouldnevertalktothoseboys.

Ilearnedtopayattentiontothewarninglights, thewaythey’dflasharoundeachperson, theircolors,theirspeed,theirsirens

ImanagedtofindtwomenIcouldtrust, usingthemlikethewallsofatrench, hopingtheywouldcatchthestraybulletsinsteadofme.

Butwhenallyouseeisred,orangedoesn’tseemsobad. So,Istartedtopickthelesseroftwoevils, befriendingpeopleteeteringondangerous.

Uneaserosewitheachlingeringglancemydirectionandunexpectedconversation, butIshoveditintothecrevicesinthebackofmyhead andI’llcleanitoutwhilestaringintothebathroommirror, pickingaparteachsyllablehesaid, wonderingifI’mgoinginsane hopingthatIam.

COWGIRL

S H Y A N N E M c D A N I E L

NooneknowsthebootsIwear

ThehatbeneathwhichIhidemyhazeleyes

TheharddirtroadwhereIrunlikeahorse free tothrustandthrive.

Thehatcallsmynametowearitandbefreeagain. Freelikebirdsflyingthroughtheair. Ihearthefieldtalktome. Hearitscreammyname. Thisisn'tjustastyle;it’salife. It’swhoIam, andIwillnotbefixingabrokenrecord.

Thesunhitsmyhazeleyes,makingthemshinebrighterthan adiamond asIscream“Yeehaw!”attopofmylungs forall theworld tohear

AWKWARD TEENS

T I L L E R Y M O R R I S O N

awkwardteens

acne,growthspurts,newthoughts,newfeelings everythingisnew sounappealing. awkwardteens,neverknowingwhatitmeans feelinglikethatweirdshapedpuzzlepiece thatdoesn’thaveafit. nomatteryour appearance thoughts ideas orwhetheryou’redowntodoit feltbyeveryoneineveryway butneveraccepted alwaysneglectedorundetected awkwardteens,nowIknowwhatitmeans

Stonewall

C I A R A N T I B B E T T S

TheyFoughtandBitandScratchedandCried aCryheardbythemany, aCryignoredbythemany

1969 June itwashot

TheCitywasbustling,notunlikemanyothermonths,ordays,orhours butsomethingwasdifferent

theforceofthepoliceofficersbashedintoTheInn “alright,youQueers!getouthere!you’reallunderarrest!”oneyelledfromtheentrance twoundercoverofficersshoutedfromthebackofTheBar,“comeonEverybody!” but

thepolicecarstooklongerthanexpected, ThePeopledecideditwastime

ThePeopledecideditwastimetoLoveThemselvesforwhoTheyare andnotletotherstellThemwhattodo

StorméPunchedanofficer MarshaKickedanother SylviaBitandScratched

ThePeopleinthebar,thesocalled“Queers” Marched Kicked Screamed Cried forFivedays

The“Riots”wentonforFivedays OrFifty-Fouryears

TheRiotsmightstillbegoingonnow

TheRiotsWeseestill TheAftermath wassomethingBeautiful TheirRevolution IsOurRevolution

TheyFought WeFought

TheyFight WeFight

See

RunRunthroughyourmovements Get outGetoutofyourhead Hear-

Heartheaudienceoverwhelmingusall Clapping, Shunning, ListeningandLooking. Ican'thandlealltheeyes. Alleyesonme.

Iseethemgothroughtheirmovements, thoughitdoesn'tseemliketheyarerunningfromthem. Theyseemoutoftheirheadsbutnotoutoftheirminds. Theyheartheir Buzzer, Music, Cue, They'refinewithalltheeyes Alleyesonthem

Iseemtoyearnforpeopletonoticeme asifI'mscreaming "SEE ME" butwouldtheywatchiftheyknewIwas Overwhelmedby, Scaredof, Wantedto run from, Alltheeyes. Alleyesonme.

BEFORE THE UNIVERSE COLLIDES

J A N A E B A Y F O R D

Ifloatedpainlesslyabovetheparadox thatalmostbledtheskyofitsblue, andInearlydrowned tryingtoendthemonotony thatwantedtobiteitsfangsintoyou. Itwasfartoosilentonthebattlefield, yetitonlymadeittwiceasloud; allIcanmakeoutiskilometersofspillednebulaspolishedingarnetredlacquer. Thesecloudswereallbrieflyhiccups, cuttingaway, untilyoumadethemlooksoeffortless asyourgazesculptedsomethingotherworldlywithtimeatbay. Theplanetsbreachedcloserandclosertogether, seekingacollisiontoblame. Yet,oncemetaphorsmaterialize, yourexaggerationsareallthatricochet Yougavemethemostbeautifulgift, themoon, andItwirledblissfullybesideit, encompassingallthatemptyspace. Beforetheuniversecollides, beforeshipsplungeintotheMarianaTrench, beforegravitystartsdrifting, beforeamuralofstarsweavesthemselvesoutoforbit, Istillfeelyourdelicatekisses abovethatparadox,and mydarling, itmakesmefeelalive.

GOOD FOR

GoodforStacy

ShegotanA

GoodforMark

Hefoundhislove

GoodforEve

Shesmiledtoday

GoodforToshi

Hewroteasong

GoodforNancy

Sheperformedonstage

Goodforyou

Goodfortrying

Goodforeating

Goodforsleeping

Goodforsmiling

Goodforlaughing

Goodforbeinghappy

Me?

Goodfornothing

L I T T L E P O E T S

Contributions from EHS Little Raptors

Rainbow Horse

N O R A H B R E W E R

MynameisNorah. TodayIfeellikearainbowhorseriding aroundonthefarm. SometimesIamagiraffe. SometimesIamaneagle. ButalwaysIamfunny. Iasktheworld,“Whatmovieshouldwe watch?”

Andtheanswerisarainbowhorseriding aroundonthefarm.

Fighting Bad Guys

M A Y A B E S T

MynameisMaya

TodayIfeellikeablue-maskedninjaturtle fightingbadguysinthesewers

SometimesIamMichaelangelo. SometimesIamacat. ButalwaysIamfunny. Iasktheworld,“Howcanunicornsbeborn withahorn?”

Andtheanswerisfightingbadguysinthe sewers.

A Rainbow Unicorn

B R A E L Y N D e M I N C K

MynameisBraelyn.

TodayIfeellikearainbowunicornflyingway upintheair. SometimesIamacrocodile. SometimesIamascarywitch. ButalwaysIamfunny. Iasktheworld,“HowcanIrideona dolphin?”

Andtheansweriswayupintheair.

lITTLE, SOFT UNICORN

J A Y L A J O H N S O N

MynameisJayla. TodayIfeellikealittle,softunicornlying downinmybed. SometimesIamPrincessPeach. SometimesIamastringofLEDlights. ButalwaysIamapunk. Iasktheworld,“Whereisthemovie theater?”

Andtheanswerislyingdowninmybed.

A Lovely Gymnast

E M E R S O N E N D L Y

MynameisEmerson

TodayIfeellikealovelygymnastjumpingon thetrampoline

SometimesIammybrother. SometimesIamapizza. ButalwaysIamloved. Iasktheworld,“Wherearethemermaids?” Andtheanswerisjumpingonatrampoline.

Big, Green Ninja Turtle

Q U I N N R I S L E Y

MynameisQuinn.

TodayIfeellikeabig,greenninjaturtle fightingbadguysinthesewer. SometimesIamadinosaur. SometimesIamacrab. ButalwaysIamfunny. Iasktheworld,“Whatdidthedinosaursdo?” Andtheanswerisfightbadguysinthesewer.

WHY ARE BANANAS YELLOW?

S A M H A Z E L T O N

MynameisSam. TodayIfeellikearealelephantwhocanhear farawayinthezoo. SometimesIamasillylion. SometimesIamabigtiger. ButalwaysIamgood. Iasktheworld,“Whyarebananasyellow?” Andtheanswerisitjustis.

FRUIT LOOPS

C H A N C E V A R N E R

MynameisChance

TodayIfeellikeabowlofFruitLoopsinmy house

SometimesIamalittledog. SometimesIamabasketball. ButalwaysIamexcited. Iasktheworld,“Howdoairplanesfly?” Andtheansweriswithbigwhitewings.

BRIGHT SEA

L I L L I A N O R M E

MynameisLillian.

TodayIfeellikeasadcoyoteinAfrica. SometimesIamajealousdinosaur. SometimesIamapepperedhamburgerwith spicyonions. ButalwaysIamkindandsmart. Iasktheworld,“Wheredodolphinslive?” Andtheanswerisinthebrightsea.

dino world

M A X L O O S

MynameisMax. TodayIfeellikeadinosaurinDinoWorld. SometimesIamalion. SometimesIamatiger. ButalwaysIamreal. Iasktheworld,“Whatisatornado?” Andtheanswerisaspinningthingstackedto thesky.

PINK SUIT

C L A I R E E N R I G H T

MynameisClaire

TodayIfeellikeapinksuitatafootballgame toseearealdonkey SometimesIsitonmyfrontporch. SometimesIamascarywitch. ButalwaysIamloved. Iasktheworld,“WhyisHalloweendark?” Andtheanswerisbecauseitiscold.

Mufasa

S A M N A N C E

MynameisSam.

TodayIfeellikeMufasaatPrideRockwhere Simbalives.

SometimesIamabigstrawberry. SometimesIamMariowhogetspowerfrom theSuperStar. ButalwaysIamwonderful,silly,andfun. Iasktheworld,“HowdoesLightning McQueengosofast?” Andtheanswerisheisgoingtowin

P R O S E

I DIDN’T FAIL

M A R I Y A A D H I K A R I

Iwassixyearsold,danglingmyfeetfromatinyclassroomchairunabletomakeeyecontactwithanyone intheroom Thereweretablesfullofkidsgigglingaway,creatingawarmbubbleofsecurityaround them.Wewerewritingstoriesthatinvolvedprincesses,dragons,andsuperheroessavingtheday.Isatat anextratablealoneoffbythecorner.Iwasnew,Imovedinlate,andmissedthechanceofmaking friendsonthefirstdayofschool.Insteadofpickingupmywoodenpencil,Isattheretuggingonmy navybluejeans.Theyfeltrough,outofplace,andseemedtobescratchingmyskin.Thenagain,thiswas myfirsttimewearingjeans.Ihadperfectlyplannedmyoutfitwithawhiteshirtthatsaid“California”in sequins.ItwasmychancetofeellikeanormalAmericangirlandfitinwithallthegirlsintheclass.That morningmymomtoldmethatIwouldbefine,andthiswasmeanttobemynewlifenomatterifitwas difficultatthestart.Iwastoldtobepatient.ButhowcouldI?MyoutfitwastheclosestthingIhadto fittingin.IcravedasimplewaveorforsomeonetocomeuptomeandcomplimentmyshirtevenifallI coulddowassmileandnod.IwishedIcouldtellthemmynameandmyfavoritecolor.ButIcouldn’t. WheneverIopenedmymouth,Iprayedforawordtocomeout,butitneverdid.Iwouldchokeonthe vowels,unabletodifferentiatebetweenthem.Igotstaredatandlaughed.ItwasthatdayIlearnedthatit isalwaysbettertostayquietthanspeak.Itwasinfuriatingthatthisdidn’tfeellikebackhome,whereI spokemymindandcouldneverstopButthiswasn’tbackhome--thiswassupposedtobemyhomeSo, IsatthereprayingthattheFairyGodmothertheywroteaboutwouldgrantmethewishtobeableto simplyknowEnglishHowever,perfectingalanguagetakestimeIttakespatienceAconceptthatsixyear-oldmecouldn’tcomprehend

Myparents,beingthemostoptimisticpeopletheyare,rehearsedthephrase“Ittakestime,”tomeevery chancetheygot.Itfrustratedme--howcouldtheysendmetoschoolwithoutpreparingmefirst?WhatI learnedbackhomewasn’tevenclosetobeingenough.Thatfeelingdidn’tchange.EverydayIsatalone onthebus,observinghowthewindowswerefairlytinted,ensuringthatnoonesawthetearsbrimming myeyes.

Thedayswouldblurintooneformysix-year-oldself.EachdayIbecamebetteratperfectingmylies,I wouldtellmyparentsthatImadeanewfriendorIstartedtounderstandtheparagraphinfrontofme. Theybelievedme.Atthispoint,ithadbeenacoupleofmonthsalready.Myimmigrantparentswere ecstaticthattheirdaughterwasfittingin,intheireyesIstartedtobecomeanormalAmericangirl.

Ifonlymylieswereabletobleedintoreality

Nani, why did you fail the English test?

Oh,Itriedmybest,butthequestionswereharder

Well, try harder I didn’t bring you to America to fail

Theroomseemedtocloseinonme,leavingacoldbreeze.IthoughtIdid.Imeticulouslysoundedevery letterout.Ireallydidtrymybest;it’snotmyfaultthatIseemedlikealostcauseinfrontofallthewhite, educatedteachers.Seeingthedaughterofimmigrantparentswhohadthickaccents,failingwasno surprise.ThemoreIwouldstareatthewords,themorethelumpinmythroatwouldgrow,simply refusingtodisappear.Itwasmeagainstthepaper.Meagainstthekidsmyage.Meagainstmyself.

However,likeeveryAmericangirl,Ialsogottheweekendsoff.Iwouldwaitandwaitandwaituntilthe clockstruck3p.m.onaFriday.ThentheclockwouldgraduallymakeitswaytoanearlySaturday morning.Witheveryoneatworkandnooneathometowatchme,mymomandIwouldstartour journeypatientlygoingfromonebustothenextandthenexttofinallyreachherwork.Itwasforty minutesaway,wewouldmakethetripeverymorningandeverynight Ispentmyentiredaysthere, fromteninthemorningtonineatnight Mymomhadrecentlyopenedasalon;shewasherown managerandemployeeIwouldsitinthebackwatchingthecustomerscomeandgo;Iwouldobserve mymomgrabthethread,puttheloosepartinhermouth,anddoaseriesofcomplexstepstoendupin theperfectpositiontothreadsomeone’seyebrow.Itwashercyclethatneverstopped.Shesmiledatthe customers,askedthemabouttheirdays,andgottowork.Iwouldspenddayslisteningtohowherlegs wouldswellbecausethreadingrequiredworkingonyourfeet,andherfingerswouldburnbecauseofthe threadslicingintoher,leavingadeepredmarkthatwouldengraveitselfontoher.

Shewouldputtwocushionchairstogetherformetotakenapsonduringtheday.Creatingthislittle bubbleformetositin,Idid.Iwasplacednexttothewindowadmiringlittlekidsplayingatthelittlemall parknearby.Theirlaughterwouldseepintomybubbleluringmetofollowit.Occasionally,mymom wouldletmegoplaywatchingmefromthewindow,refusingtoblinkincasesomethinghappened.I couldn’tplayforlong.MymombelievedthatIhadbetterthingstodolikeread.Iwouldbringlittle bookswithme,sitinthemiddleofthetwocushionchairs,andstarttoread.Igotbetteratreadingasthe weekspassedby.ThiscycleIhadthatincludedmymombecamemycomfort--itfeltsecureandnormal. Ilovedfallingasleepbetweenthechairs.Thesunwouldgleamonthem,pushingmyeyelidstodroop.I wouldwakeuptocustomerssmilingatme,givingmesympatheticlooksasakidwhowouldspendthe daywatchingtheclock AstimewentbyIfamiliarizedmyselfwiththeregularcustomers;sometimes theywouldbringmecandyIlovedM&M’sSchoolstartedtogetbetter,butIforcedmyselfnottothink aboutitmuch.ItoldmyparentsIfitin,Ididgood,andIstartedtosucceed.TherewasnowayIcould lookatherswollenfeetandherdry,crackedfingersandtellherthetruth.Mydadwouldworklonglatenightshiftsatthegasstationcleaningthefloors--Icouldn’tlookathimanddothesame.Itwouldbreak themfasterthanitbrokeme.IknewthattheirheartswouldswellwithhappinessforthelifeIwas makingmyselfhere,thattheirhardworkmadeupforit. Nani, you ’ re so lucky you start school early here. I wish I could’ve done the same as a kid. Right.Lucky.That’swhatIwas.Intheireyes,Iwillforeverbe lucky.Thefirstdaughterofthefamilyholdingalltheirdreamstogetherinaperfectbalancebetweenher shoulders.ThiswastheiropportunitytoliveinAmerica,butthroughmeaswell.Astimewentonmy successesbecametheirs,andmyfailureswentthroughthembeforetheyevencamenearme.Afterall, theydidn’tbringmetoAmericatofail.See,IpreferredtoeaseintomynewlifeinAmerica,butI couldn’t.Ifellfacefirstwithnothingtostopme.Itwillforeverbemyblessingandcurse.Igrewup readingbookstohidemyaccentinsteadofplayingGroundiesatthepark.Ispentmydaysinasalon chairratherthanhavingnaptimeduringtheday.

Throughoutallmystoriesinvolvingprincesses,dragons,andsuperheroesIhadthesamemorallessonat theend,whichwastheartofpatienceItrulylearnedthatbeingpatientmeanttrustingyourselfevenifit meanttrustingnavybluejeansandshirtswithsequinsItmeantlettingapartofyourselfgo,thepartthat doesn'ttrusttheideathat“timehealsall.”Includingthatlittlepart,thatwishestoredochildhood,all startingwiththelittletableoffinthecorner.

MY BODY

It'searlyFebruaryof2018.I'msittinginthewarmclassenjoyingmyclassmate'scompany.We’retalking abouttheupcomingAmeritownetripwhenallofasuddenmypantsarefeelingverywet“Manna,areyou okay?”Iheardmy5thgradebestfriendaskmeMysuddenstillnessconfusesherIlookdownatmybrighthot pinkRossleggingsthatnowhadabigredspotIhadgottenmyfirstofficialperiod,ImeanofcourseIhada periodbeforethisbuttheylasted2daysandneverhadanyrealbleedingMyfriendcatchesontowhathad happenedsoshegivesmeherjackettotiearoundmywaistandgrabsmeapass.Thewalktothenurseswas extremelyembarrassingdespitenoonepayinganyactualattentiontomeitfeltliketherewasahugespotlight onme.Thenursegivesmeapairofgrannypantiesandextralargesweatstoweartherestoftheday,and whenItellyoueveryonehadthoughtIhadpoopedmypantsyou’dprobablysayIwasexaggeratingbutno. Byrecess,therumorhadspreadandpeoplewerecallingmeababyfor“poopingmypants.”

Yourfirstperiodissupposedtomarkthedayyoubecomeawoman,andIwasnowherenearready,andIstill don'tthinkIam.Havingaperiodbroughtonnewresponsibilitiesandbeingthefirstgirlinmyclassjustmade everythingfeelawkward.Fromthatpointon,Iwasalwaysaheadofthegirlsinmyclass.Ihadalreadyhadmy firsttrainingbrawhenIstarted5thgradesobythetimeIwasinmiddleschoolIhaddevelopeda“grown” body.

Youknowwhat'sfunnyisthatwhenyoudevelopcurvesasachild,fullyadultwomenseeyouascompetition. IhadmultiplemotherscommentingonhowIwastryingtoprovoketheboysinmychurchgroupandthat mybodywassomethingtobeashamedof Theywouldneversayitoutloudbutyoucouldhearthe underpinningmessageintheirtone “Why don't you pull down your skirt a little?” Or, “I can't believe your mother let you wear that” ThesephrasesbecamesomethingIwouldheardailyfromwomenIlookedupto.Eventhe girlsmyagemademehatemybody.EverytimeIlookedinthemirrorIwouldhatewhatIsaw.Thiswasonly justthebeginning–soonIwouldlearnjusthowdisgustingthisworldtreateditsyoungwomen.

Upuntilthe6thgradeIdidn'tknowwhatvirginity,rape,orsexualabusewasbecausemyparentsatthetime wereextremelyreligious.Sofindingoutmymotherwaspro-lifefeltlikemyheartwasbeingrippedout.And forthelongesttimeIthoughtIhadtobepro-lifetoo,butthatdidn’tlasttoolong.AsIwaslearningmoreand moreaboutpro-choicemovements,Istarteddevelopingopinionsofmyown.

Duringquarantine,IhadundergonealotofstressbeingthatIwasextremelyhormonal.Mybodykept changing,andmymindcouldn’tkeepup.Igainedabout20poundsthatIneverlost.Itdidn'thelpthatmy parentswouldconstantlybringupthewaymymalecousinwaslosingsomuchweight,butIjustkeptgaining andgainingevenifIdidn'teat.Myparentsdidn'tcareifIwasdepressed.Hell,theydidn'tevenbelievein depressionatthetime,butIwasslippingfurtherintodarknesswitheverycommentandeverywhisperabout mybodyIwasstuckwiththiswiththementalitythatIshouldhatemybody

Ineverlosttheweight,butIlearnedtoloveitIrealizedthatevenifIcomparedmyselftoothersitwouldn’t changewhatIsawinthemirror.MostimportantlyIlearnedhowtoforgive.Peoplesayrudethingsbecause deepdowntheyaren'thappywiththemselves.Ilovebeingawomanandnocommentorpersonshouldmake mefeeltheopposite.Ishouldbeproudofmyself.IwishIcouldgobackintimeandgive5thgrademeahug. Iwouldtellhertoneverhide,neverbackdown,neverletamandictateherchoices,alwaystakeupspace,be confident,andlovethebodyyouwerebornwith.

THE DAY THE WORLD ENDED

Weopeninadarkconcreteroom:lifelessandempty;thewallsdividedintoconcretepillars.Inthisroom therearetwomen:onestrappedintosomeharness-likedevicewithhishandsboundabovehishead,and anotherinamilitaryuniformstandinginfrontofhim

Why am I here? I just went on a walk It'samazingthatyoucanwalkatallYouweresupposedtobestrappedtothatlookingglassfortherest ofyourlife--yourlegsshouldhaveatrophied.

What? I don't understand what you ' re saying--this is madness Madness?Thisishowtheworldhasbeenforyears.Atfirstitstartedwhenwedeveloped“thered.”A handydrug,isn'tit?Makespeopleforget--itmakesthemmoredocile,sowecanmilkthemforalltheir worth.Theycan'tunionizeiftheydon'tevenknowhowlongtheirshifthasbeen.Hell,ifthey'redoped upenough,theycan'teventellhowmuchthey'vebeenpaid!Soonwebeganourtakeover.Wetookthe government,thepolice,everything. Who?

Whoarewe?Wearethesocialites.Butthencamethedrones.Thedronescouldworkbetter,fasterand moreefficientthananyhumancould.Alsowedidn'thavetoworryaboutthemnottakingtheirred.The morecowardlyamongusdidn'twanttokillyououtright,despitethefactthatyouhaverunoutofyour use,SowejusthookedyouuptotheredandputyouinfrontoftheTV,whichwerenameda“Looking Glass.”We'vedoneitforsolongnowthatwe'reshowingrerunsofprogramsfromthe1950's,theyears 2060!Butnowit'sallover--Operation67hasbeenapproved Wenolongerhaveauseforyou,and you'reeatingtoomuchofourfood,andwecan'ttakecareofyoueither--notlikeanyofyoucould work,andthedronescandoabetterjobanyway,soit'stimetogetridofyou

Suddenlywithinoneofthecreasesoftheconcretewalls,thewallbegantomove.Thewallopensuplike asetofdoubledoorsrevealingthecitybelow.Thousandsofdronesbegintomarchoutofthebuilding andintothesuburbs.

What are you going to do?

Oh,you'llsee.

Thedronesmarchintothebuilding.Screamscanbeheard.

Oh, God, what have you done?

Oh,comeon!Wedidn'tneedthemanymore,butyouknowwhat?Asaconsolation,I'llletyoulive.I'll letyouliveknowingthatyou'rethelastofyourpeopleonEarth.

Themaninthemilitaryuniformwalksouttheroom.Allofthedoorscloseastheothermanisleftthere torot.

BAD FOOD, BAD MEAT, BAD GOD

D A V I D F A L D E R

Itslower-mostmouthseemedtohaveamindofitsown,incessantlyclackingrot-stainedteeth togetherasithobbledaroundaimlessly.Thatclicking,thatinsufferableclicking–itwaslikea tickingclock;fitting,really.Theonlythingwehadleftwastime.Timeuntilitwouldwashthe rotfromitsteethwithourblood.Someoneletoutahushedwhimpernearby.Theunfortunate coozereactedonlywithayelpbeforeitburstintoasuddensprintandfelluponthesourceofthe noise,malformedhandstearingandbreakingandmutilating,malformedmouthschewingand bitingandsucking.Allthewhileitstop-mostmouthvocalizedguttural,orgasmicmoansthat you’dmistakeforawhoreintheheatofasinfulpassion.Thesemoansharmonizedwithits meal’spained,gurglingscreamsinarepugnantsymphony.Icouldheargaggingnearme,and thequiveringbitchhuddlednexttomebehindtherack–adornedwithshitty,moth-eatencoats –begantovomit.Sheseemedtohavegoneovertheedgesuddenlydevolvingintoafitof painedanguish,sobbingviolent,heavytearsintothepuddleofhalf-digestedbreakfastshe produced.Themoaningstopped–thesoundoffleshtearingfollowedsuit.Thescreamslagged intheirexit;thepoorfool’sgroanstrailedoffandfadedawayoncehewasallowedtodie.All wassilentbeforethosemaddeningclickscontinuedagain,followedbytheheavy,quickslapping ofmoistfleshontilethatgotcloserandcloser.Myeyeswerestilllockedonherasshecontinued herdisplayofagonybeforeaviscous,darkliquidsuddenlybegantodripontoherheadfrom above.Ididn’tdarelookuptoascertainthesourceofthathellishsalivaasthreedeformedhands reacheddownanddraggedherscreamingoutofsight.Ididn’tneedtoseewhatwashappening toher;thesoundsofbonessnappingandfleshtearingwasenoughformetogetthegeneral idea.Thatsamedreadedmoaningechoedthroughoutthedilapidatedclothingstoreasitstripped itsprey’sorgansfromherbody.Iletoutalong,drawn-outsigh.Undoingthestraponmy servicepistol’sholster,Istaredattheweaponforagoodwhile–theringingofmyears drowningoutthesoundsofthemealbehindme.Iletoutanotherlong,hardsighbefore drawingmypistol.Justoneshot.Albeitgruesome,thisisnothingcomparedtothelivinghellI’ll beputthroughifthatthingfindsme,anditwillendupfindingme.Ibracemyself,taking severaldeepbreaths.Iclenchmyteethandshutmyeyes.Thebarkofthegunfeelsalmostlikea distantecho.Foramoment,maybeless,painoverwhelmsmybodyandthenimmediatelypasses. Darknessswallowsmyconsciousness,andIsimplystop.ThelastthingIprocessisthesmellof spoiledmeatgettingcloserandcloser.

[INTERLUDE]

greatalmightylordintheskygreetsme

[RETURN]

I’mdraggedoutfromthegripofdeath,chokingonbitterair,pantingbreathlessly.BeforeIcan gaugethecircumstances,painshootsupfrommylegsandthroughmybody.Ilookedup,not evenfullycomprehendingwhateverwashappening,onlytobegreetedbythatthing’srotten maw,gapingandreadytofeed.Everyfiberofmybeingattemptedtoflee,torunaway, anythingtogetasfaraspossiblefromthatdecomposingfreak.Nothinghappened.Icouldn’t move.Twoarmsthatseemedliketheydidn’tevenbelongtothesamebodywereclutchingmy legstightly.Agonizinglytightly.Theskintorefirstfromtheirgrip,beforetendonsandmuscle gaveway,followedbythesnapofmyfemur.Themildanguishthatpreviouslyshotthroughmy bodywasreplacedwithpure,unrivaledagony.Iattemptedtoscream,todoanything.Tomove anycomponentofmyuselesscoil.Nothing.Icoulddonothingasthatthingcrushedmybones tosplinters.Icoulddonothingasitleereddownatmewitheyesthatweren’teventhere,its countlessmouthsdrippingwithsweetpoison.Icoulddonothingasitlowereditsheadand begantotearawayatmyface.Icoulddonothingasanothersetofhandsboretheirwayintothe holesinmyhead.

To the World

Mydarling,Iseethestarsinyoureyes.

IseethemwhenyousmileWhenit’stoothy,sharp,fullofbite, beautiful,ahintoflaughterplayingoff theedges Whenit’sloudandbright,excitement,amusement,mischief,somethingsodistinctlyyou,I nevercouldpictureyouwithoutitWhenit’scalm,soft,quiet,whenit’snighttime,andIgettoholdyou inmyarmslikeI'vealwaysdreamedof.

Iseethemwhenyou’reangry.Iseethousandsofburningsunscollapsing,supernovasandblackholes,the heatdeathoftheuniverse.AndI'dbelyingifIhadtosayeventhatwasn’tbeautiful,butwhen everythingyoudoisbeautiful,it’shardtofindsomethingthatisn’t.

Iseethemwhenyou’reannoyed,adistantsparkoffirewaitingtobefueled.Iseethemwhenyou’re relaxed,softeredgesandwarmlight.Iseethemwhenyou’retired,whenyou’reamused,whenyou’re bored,andallthetimeinbetween.

And, oh,mylove,Iseethemwhenyoucry.I'veseenthemwhenI'vemadeyoucry,whenlifemadeyou cry,whenShe’dmakeyoucry.Ihateit.Ihateitmorethananything,becausethosestars, your stars,they dim.Theydimwhenyou’resoobviouslymeanttoshine,toilluminatetheworldwithyourbeing. I'vevowedtonevermakeyoucryagainI'vevowedtoneverletanythingmakeyoucryagainInever wanttoseeyoudimYoudon’tdeserveit,You’venever,ever,deservedit

Iseethemwhenyoulookatme,whenyouthinkIdon’tnoticebut,mydear,howcouldInot?How couldInotseeyou,howcouldInevernoticethewayyou’vealwayslookedatme?

Irememberonenight,longago.Irememberlotsofnights,butthatnight.Wewerestargazing.Youhad beentalkingaboutthestars,yourstars,aboutAlphaCentauriandVega.Aboutconstellationsandstar systemsandthenebulae,andIhadbeenlistening.HowcouldInot,it’syouafterall,andyouwere shiningsobright.

ButIdigress.We’dbeenstargazing.There’dbeenapause,andIwasafraidyou’dleft,butyouhadn’t. You’dturnedtomeinstead,andmydarling,Ilostmybreathcompletely.Becauseyou’dlookedatme likeyoudidthem,likeIwasstardustandlight,likeIwasyouruniverse,yournebulae,your everything.

Soyes,Iseethemwhenyoulookatme,thoughIameverundeservingofthatlight.

Iguess,well,whatI'mtryingtosay,isthatyou,mydarling,are my universe

YouarethesunandallmystarsIfindmyconstellationsdottedonyourskinIorbityoulikethemoon doesthisearth,IneedyoulikeSaturnneedsitsrings.

Quill

Iloveyoulikethemilkyway.Iyearnforyoulikedistantgalaxies.Ifindyouineverything,everywhere, likethethreestarsonOrion'sbelt.

AndIwillneverstoplovingyou,neverstopneedingyou,wantingyou,notuntilIseespaceitself collapsearoundus.Andeventhen,foreonsafter,I'llstillbethere.Withyou.Foryou.Lovingyou. Becauseit’salwaysyou.Italwayshasbeen,italwayswillbe.

It'sineffable

FOREVER FIFTEEN

Iwas10.Thesunbeameditsbrightfieryyellow.Theterracewascoveredwithlittledaisiesescapingthrough scatteredcracks,andheatslowlytraveledabovethegroundbeneath.Thewindhadstalled.Theonly movementoutsidewasblursofsquirrelscrossingthestreetandadultswalkingtheirdogs.Anopeninvitation formetogoplay.MyfeetswayedbackandforthonthecouchasIwaited,barelygrazingthecarpetbelow.A knockonthedoor.Ashocksentthroughmybody.Myfeetnolongerswayedbutratherstoodstill.Another knock.Itwasher.Ijumpedfromthecouch,stickingtothehotleatherbeforemythighspeeledoff.Iranto A-ma.Onelittlefootinfrontoftheothertryingsohardnottostumbleorslip.

“A-ma,A-ma!Someone’satthedoor,”Iexclaimed.

“Oh,really?”

Isaid,“Yes,Yes!”withpuppydogeyes.“Canyoupleasecheck?PleaseA-ma.”

“Okay,okay!”

Sheslowlystrodetothedoor,herslippersclickingagainstthehardwoodfloors,thenbecomingsilentonthe brown-tancarpet.Shereachedtoturnthelittlegoldglobe,whenalittlevoicemurmured,“CanAnaiyacome outsidetoplay?”Yes,finally:“Ofcourseshecan”Ecstatic,Ijoltedupandpulledtheslabofwoodopen.Imade ittomyporch,coveredindirtandmadeofcement.Tootie,mynextdoorneighbor,hadcometoaskifI wantedtorideourbikesaroundtheneighborhood.Shewasnicebutverysassysometimes.Hereyesandskin wereadarkchocolatecolor.Herhairwasinabonnetandshehadherpinkbikesittingbesideher.Iaskedmy mom,ofcourse,andshelectured“Whenthelightscomeon,youcomein.”Irolledmyeyesbutagreed. Beforelong,thesunbegantosetandthebrightblueskyhadsoonbecomestrokesofpinkandpurple.

“Doyouwanttocomebackhomewithme?”Tootiesuggested.“MyNanasaysIhavetogoinsidenow.”

”I’mokay.I’llgohomelater,butthankyou,”Ismiled

”Yeah,gethomesafealright?”

“Iwill!”

Icarriedonwithmyjourney,lookingatthemovingcloudsandthetreessprinklingtheirleavesonthe twiddlinggrass.WhenIsuddenlystumbledacrossasmallfigure.Itseemedtoberelativelymysize,butIhad neverseenitbefore.Itsheadturned,lookingatme.It’sakid.Helookedmyage,maybeayearortwoolder. Hisskinwasdarktanandhisshorthairbarelycoveredhishead.Hishairlookeddifferentfrommine,alot moredenseandcurly.Istaredathimbutdidn’tsayanything.Wait,wherearemymanners?Ishould introducemyself.Ipushedmybrokenpedalsuntilmybikemoved,slowingmakingmywaytohislittletown home.WhenIreachedhim,Igotoffmybikeandputthepegdown,makingsureitdoesn’tgetanymore damagedthanitalreadywas,andIjumpedoff.Iwatchedmyfeet:onefootaftertheother.Mypinktwinkle toeslitupwitheverystepImade.WhenIfinallyreachedhim,hesmiled.Myheartsoftened,andIfound myselfsmilingback.

“Myname'sAnaiya;what’syourname?”Ibeckoned.

“Moses.Myname’sMoses”

CometofindoutMosesisnewtotheneighborhood.Hecomesoverwhenhisauntbabysitshim.

Iwouldseehimeverynowandthen.Maybetwotimesaweek,butsuddenlyhestartedtocomeoverevery day!Everytimehewouldcomeover,wewouldgotochurchtogetherorroamaroundtheneighborhoodand playtrivialgameslikehideandseek,basketball,tag,groundies,andsometimeshopscotch,butthat’swhenwe werereallybored.Soonerorlater,thesegamesbecameapartofourroutine.

“Naiya,Ihaveanidea.”

“Whatisit?”Iresponded,desperatelywantingtodosomethingelse.

“Youknowthealleywaybehindmyhouse”

“Yea?Whataboutit?”

“Let’sgotreasurehunting!”

Treasurehunting?There’snotreasurethere.Theonlytreasurethereiseitherglassortrashfromthehighway.

“Idon’tknowMoses,”Imurmuredhesitantly.

“Trustme,Naiya.We’llbeokay”

Hesmiled.HowcouldIsayno?

“Ok,but-”

“Iknow,I’lltakeyouhomebeforethelightsturnon.”

Ismiled,slowlyfollowinghim.Whenwereachedthealleyway,Inoticedthiswasn’tlikeanyotherI’dseen before.Insteadofaslabofcementbehindrowsofhouses,itwasgrass.Thegrassstretchedformilesbehindthe highway,dippedinward,andwasaboutthirtyfeetwide.Ontheothersidewerestorageunits.Thegrass wasn’ttrimmedortakencareof.Itwaseasilyaboutthesameheightasmykneesandthetraintracks--which wentthroughthealley--werecoveredingrassandmud.Itwasabandoned.Thecloudsloomedoverthesky, thesunbarelyseepingthrough.Ugh,it’sgoingtorainsoon.

“Well,comeon,”helaughed“Wedon’thaveallday!”

“I’mgoing;I’mgoing!”

Iwasn’tgoing.Thegrassitchedlikeantscrawlingovermylegs.Icouldn’tdoit.

Hecackled.“Ohmygosh!You’resodramatic!Let’sgo!”

Ilied.Icoulddoit.IranasfastasIcould,andsoonmadeittotheverybottom. Acup,aring,andatoy.Ileftwithacup,aring,andatoy.Mosesisagenius!Howcouldsomeonethinkof suchanamazingidea?Howdidheinventsuchagreatgame?!Thiswasourroutine.Occasionally,wewould gobacktoourtrivialgames,buttreasurehuntingwasournewthing.Onedaywedecidedtogotreasure huntingagain,butthistimewithalmostallthekidsontheblock.Wewouldgofurtherdownthealley--the partwhichwasalientous.Thepartofthealleywherenoonehasgone.Wemadeourway,findingtreasures totakehome,lookingatgraffitisprayedonthecementwall,andkeepinganeyeoutforintruders,justtobe safe.Eventually,westumbleduponsomefreights,bigmulti-coloredmetalboxes,thatjustsatinwhatseemed tobeawarehouse.Tomakesurewewereallsafe,Mosesdecidedtoinvestigate.Aneerievoicerangout: “Who’sthere?”Weallstoodstill,notmakingasinglenoise.Noneofuscouldseehim–BANG!–shrieks suddenlyfilledtheair.Weallran.ThegrassbecameblurryandthetraintrackssoonbecametheonlythingI couldfocuson.Ipushed,andpushed,andpushed.Ipushedtillmylegsbegantogivein,andcrumbledagainst thecoarsedirt.Icouldn’tgiveup.Icouldn’tdienow.Iwatchedmyfeet:onefootaftertheother.Mytwinkle toesweren’tgleaming,butratherfightingfortheirlivesthroughthemud,twigs,andgrassstretchedacrossthe floor.Beadsofsweatformedallovermybody.Mybreathsbecamehoarseandmykneesfelltotheground. MychesthurtandIstruggledtobreathe.Everybreathseemedtopiercemychestlikeadagger.HowcouldI besostupid?HowcouldIhaveletthishappen?WhydidIlethimdothat?Thoughtsfloodedmyhead.Ihate thisgame.Whywouldhemakeupsuchastupidgame?Moses.Where’sMoses?Icouldn'tfathomwhatcould havehappenedtohim.Icouldn’tliveifIlosthim.PleaseGod!Please!Ineedhim.Don’tdothistome!Not today!Please!

“BOO” Ijolted.“Areyoudumb?”

“Wealmostdiedandthisiswhatyoutellme?”hesmirked. Ibackhandedhisshoulder.“Youcan’tdothat!A-masaystonottalktostrangers!!Wecould’vedied!!Ican’t believeIletyoudothat!”

“Idon’tknowwhyyouletmedothateither!”hechuckled. Awaveofreliefovercameme.Icouldn’tprocesswhatjusthappened,butallIcouldthinkaboutwasthefact thatwemadeitoutsafe.Thefactthathewassafe.

“YouhavetobemorecarefulnexttimeMoses!”

“Naiya,I’mok.Nothinghappenedtome.Nothingwilleverhappentome.”

Iraisemyeyebrows.“Pinkypromise?”

“Ialreadypromisedyourmom,alright.Ipromisedtoprotectyou.”

“Moses,”Isaid,nolongersmiling,“doyoupinkypromise?”

“Ugh,”heshrugs.“Ipinkypromise”

Threeyearslater,Ifoundmyselfsittingontheleathercouchmovingeverynowandthen.Iwastryingso hardtofindthesimplestformofaratio.Whatevenisthat?HowamIsupposedtoknowthis?DoIreallyneed toknowthiswhenIgrowup?AtthetimeIwaslearningaboutratios,scaling,andfractions.Oneofthemany nuisancesthedistrictmadeyoulearn.Eventhoughstudentswouldjustdumpitoutoftheirbrainsnolessthan ayearlater.However,IwasnowaTíatomynieceandnephew,andtheyturnedouttobetwins!Lifewasfun andlifewassimple.Mylifeconsistedofgoingtoschool,doinghomework,andgoingoutsidetohangout withmyfriends.Inthisinstance,Iwasdoingmathformyclasstomorrow.OfcourseIdiditthedaybeforeit’ wasdue.AsIstaredblanklyatthejumbleofwordsonmypage,Iheardaslightnoiseandsatupstraight.Hm, maybeIwasjustimagining.Imean,Ihadbeenworkingfortenminutes.Wasthisasignformetotakea break?

“Anaiya,it’sme!”avoiceyells.

A-masaidnottoopenthedoortostrangers,soinsteadIlookedthroughthepeephole.ItwasTootie.Herhair wasnolongerafro,butbraided.HerNanamusthavedoneit.Shewasverygoodatdoingherhair.Thistime thebeadswereintertwinedwiththem,whichreallycaughtmyattention.

“Ilikeyourhair!”

“Thankyou!Ihopeitlooksgood”shesmiled.“Iwassittingdownforwaytoolongforitnottolookgood.”

Ilaughed.“So,what’sup?”

“Ihavesomethingtotellyou.”

Icockedmyhead,wonderingwhyhertonebecamesoserious.“Okay?”

Wewalkedtoherhousewhichwasthehouserightnexttome.Hergrasswasverygreen,andtheonlything dividingourhouseswasmydriveway.Iwalkedacrossmydrivewaycountingallofthecracksandoilspills alongtheway.Myhousewasn’tthenicestontheoutside,butherswas.Iwalkedpastthebigtreeonherlawn, andwemadeittohersidewalkthatledintothehouse.Itwasastraightpathandhadlittlelines.Itlookedlike itwascutapartintolittlesquaresandthengluedbacktogether.Iwalkedupherconcretestepsandmadeit ontoherpatio.Herpatiowasalsomadeoutofconcretelikemine,butTootie’swascleaner.Minewascovered indirtandlittlepineneedles,butherswaswashedoften,andthetreetheyhadmadethegrasslooknicewhen theleavesfell,whilemineonlykilledthegrass.Isatmyselfononeofthechairsrockingbackandforth.They weremadeoutofmedals,paintedblack,andhaddesignsengravedonthemwithflowersandvines.

“Mosesisdead”

Myheartdroppedtomystomach.What?Um.Thatcan’tberight.Myvoicecracked,“What?” Sheshrugged,“Yeah,hepassedaway.Ithinkhegotshotorsomething.” Ilookedatherindisbelief.Howcouldshesaysuchathing?Andhowcouldshesayitinsuchacalm manner?MylungsclosedinonthemselvesIcouldn’tbreatheMyvisionbecameblurred,andIcouldn’t understandanyofthewordsshewassayingIknewshewastalkingtomeIknewshewas Why can’t I hear her? MywidenedTimestopped,andthebirdsnolongerchirpedbutcriedItriedtoholditin I lookedatherandsaid,“Oh,ok,”andwalkeddownhersteps,nolongercountinghowmanysquaresthere were,nolongernoticingtheleaves,thebushes,northetrees.Iwascrumbling.EverystepItookwasa chore.Ibroke.Icriedandcriedtilltherewerenomoretearslefttocry.“Why?”overandoveragain, “Why?”ThatnightA-macouldn’tansweranyofmyquestions.Whywasithim?WhydidGoddothis tome?Whywouldheputmethroughallofthispain?Why?WhywasitMoses?Ishouldhavespent moretimewithhim.Thetownhomewasnolongerhis.

Hedoesn’tlivehereanymore;hedoesn'tlivehereanymore.Hedoesn’tlivehereanymore. Mythroatclosedslowlybecomingmoresore.Ilayinbedthatnightstaringthroughmyceiling.Ilayin bedthatnightwithMosesnotsleepingacrossthestreetwithme.Igrewahatredformyself.Iblamedit onme.Ishouldhavebeenthere.IfIhadbeentherenoneofthiswouldhavehappened.Ishouldhave playedwithhimmore.Ishouldhavebeenbetter.Iwenttosleepwithagapingholeinmychest.Iwent tosleephopinghewouldbeknockingonmydoortomorrowmorning.Hedidn’tcome.Henevercame. Hebrokehispromise.

Astheyearspassed,Istruggledtoperfectlyrecallwhathelookedlike.Istruggledtorememberhisvoice andthememorieswemadetogetherMymom,A-ma,tellsmestoriesaboutusIsmileandfeelhappyI wasabletohaveapersonlikehiminmylifeIhavetriedtofightbacktearsandcomplicatedemotions, butwhenIhearhisname,Irememberallthesleeplessnightsandalltheadventures Iwasneverinvitedtohisfuneral.Inevergottosaygoodbye.IwasfuriousthatIcouldn'tseemyfriend again.Iwasfuriousthattheoneswhowereinvitedwereneverthereforhim.Iwasfuriousthatpeople mournedandcriedforhimwhenhepassedbutnevercaredforhimwhenhewasalive.Iquestioned “why”everynight,butsometimesthereisno“why.”Sometimesthereisnoexplanation.Youjust havetomoveon.Istilllovehimsomuch.Isometimessitandwonderwhathewouldlooklikenowor whathewantedtodowhenhewasolder.

Idoknowthatwhereverheishe’sfindingtreasureforme.Nowandthen,I’llwritehimaletter,and updatehimoneverythingthat’sbeengoingon.Ineversendittoanyoneorletanyoneelsereadit.It’s betweenhimandme.However,astimegoesonIhaveyettoforgethissmile.Ihopehe’sproudof everythingI’vedone.Ihopehe’sproudofthepersonhe’smademetoday.Hewillforeverbeloved.He willforeverbecherished.Hewillforeverbemissed.Hewillforeverbefifteen.

a journey of self-discovery

Ineverimaginedmyselfhavingalifeidentitycrisisattheageof16.Thiscrisiswasbroughtonbybeing surroundedbymypeerswhoexcelledatsomethingorparticipatedinanactivitythatcenteredtheirlives Igrewintriguedbymygiftandwhatmademeunique WasIdestinedtobealeader?Anactivist?A well-roundedindividualwhoisdeeplycommittedtothecommunity?Afterawhile,Irealizedthatpeople hadsomethingwithinthemthatledthemtobuildapassionfortheirintereststhatwasmotivatedbya purpose.Afterproperlyunderstandingitsdefinitionandhowpeopleapplyittotheirlives,theword purposegotmethinkingaboutmyentireexistence.Purposeisthatwhichmotivatesyou;thethingthat definesyou;yourlife'sintention.Findingyourpurposebeginswithacriticalquestionyoumustask yourself:WhoamI?AquestionI'dneverconsideredaskingmyself;aquestionIdidn'tthinkIneededto askbecause"IalreadyknewwhoIwas."Peoplehavealwaystoldmehowkind,sweet,andpoliteIam, amongotherthings,myentirelife.Ithoughtthat'swhatdefinedme,butIwaswrong.Mypathoftrying todeterminewhoIambeganinadolescence,goingintomyjunioryearofhighschool,whenthe turbulenceofemotionsandthecommotionofculturaldemandscreatedchaoswithinme.Iwasa chameleon,changingrolesandpersonastofitin,butneverreallyknowingwhoIwasbeneaththemasks Iwore.Itwastimetogoonthejourneytodiscoverthetrueme.

Theysaythatlifeisajourneyofself-discovery,anever-endingsearchtodiscovertheessenceofour existenceandfindourplaceonthisvastandobscureplanet.Formonths,Istruggledthroughthemazeof existence,lookingforsolutionstothefundamentalissuesthathauntedmymindWhatamI,andwhat amIherefor?Ifoundmyselfinadarkplaceinmylife,feelingsobehindcomparedtomypeers,butI learnedthatlifeprovidesthejourney;youdesigntheroute Lookingback,I'vemadeadvancesinmy journeybytakingoncommunityrolessuchastutoringmypeers,joiningnewclubsthatalignedwith mypassionforscienceandmygoalofbecomingasurgeononeday,andmakingnewfriendswho motivateandguidemetobethebestversionofmyself.

Theroadtodiscoveringoneselfandone'spurposeisnotadestinationbutratheraconstantexploration. It'satapestrywovenofself-discovery,passion,acceptance,connection,intention,andpeace.Reflecting onmyjourneythusfar,IknowthatmypurposeiswithinmeandthatIwilldiscoveritalongtheway, eventuallyleadingmetoconstructmyownpath.

nEW WORLD PERSPECTIVE

Submerged,Ifeelanoverwhelmingsenseoftranquility.Theworldseemssopeaceful,soright,andthe anxietyoftheworldabovetheseabeginstoflowawayTheclarityofthewaterbecomesaclarityofmy mind;asallIcanthinkaboutisthebroadnewworldnooneelsehasexperiencedbefore

BeforeIjumped,myheartratewasskyhigh Puttingonmyequipmentalwaysfeltthreatening The heavytankweighedmedown.Ifeltanxious,butIneverrealizedhowstressedIwastillIwasonthe seafloor.Igetsousedtotheoverwhelmingfeelingsofanxietybecauseit’safeelingIdealwitheveryday. Constantly,Ifindmyselfcaughtupinthesamefeelingsofburden,thesamemindsetthatIamslowly beingpickedapart,piecebypiece,astheworldmovesoninsatisfactionaroundme.Ifeelalone.Stuck.I releasemyair,Ibegintosink.ThefartherdownIgo,themoremyanxietyfadesaway.Thefeelingof thegrainysand,thecoolwater,mycalmmind.Thewaterwrapsaroundmelikeabigwarmhug.Ifeel thecurrenttakingmeaway,bringingmefartherintothisworldIbegintofeelathomein.

Ilookoutintothedeepblue,whitesandbelowandanombreofbluefromfogtofireabove.Ifeelmy handsontheoceanfloorandI’mmesmerizedbythesilkyfeeling.Pickingupthesand,Ireleaseitfrom mygraspwhileIwatchitdescendtothefloor.AsI’mkneeling,I’mthinkingaboutthelifetheseshells havelived.Somelaywhole,puttogether,unbroken.Othersareovercomebytheweightofthecrushing worldabove.Someshellslooksofinetheyblendinwiththesand.Iputmyselfinanewperspective.At thismomentIamnotthegirlreadingabouttheseadventuresinstories;Iammakingmyownstories Submergedinanewlife,anewworld,anewperspective

Icanhearthebubblesofmybreathascend,Ilooktheotherdirection.Awhole cityofanimals,plants, colors,thingsnooneelseseesineverydaylife.RightbeforemyeyesIseeschoolsofcolorfulfish,podsof playfuldolphins,familiesofdiversecorals,andmagnificenthomestocreaturesthatliveinawholenew world.Asocietythatfunctionsinitsownuniqueway.Thisworldisn’tfullofloudcarhorns,giantcity buildings,andcrowdedstreets.It’sfulloflove,curiosity,life,andimmensetranquility.Iimaginemyself asthatfish.WhatwouldIdo?WherewouldIgo?WhatwouldIeat?WhowouldImeet?Iimagine myselfastheseaweed.Flowinggracefully,lettingthecurrenttakemeaway.Relaxingeverymusclein mybodytillIfeelthatIamnotthatfishanymore.Iamnotseaweed.NowIamthewater.Movingfree, workingtogetherwithsociety.SuddenlyIdon’tfeellikeIamanordinarypersonwalkingonthestreets ofdowntownDenver.InowfeelthatImatter,thatIamanimportantpartofthisculture.Ibeginto wander.IadmiretheunchartedcoralasIthinkabouthowitgotthere.

Howitwascreatedandwhathashappenedinitslife?Thetwists,turns,loops,andthecolors.There’sno organization;everythingisfreeThewaythecreaturesmove,Iwonderifthesecreatureshavelivedhere theirwholelives,orifthey’vebeenallovertheworld Thesilverfishswirlingaroundtheskylikea whirlpoolThecolorfulanemoneblowinglikefallleavesinthewindThehardshellcrabscrawllikeyour skinwhenyouhearfingernailsonachalkboardTheenormousseaturtles,sluggishastheyfloatlike

cloudsintothevastnessoftheocean.Theymoveliketribes,families,blood.Onefishswimsup,the othersfollow.Likethegoldenruleofthesea;leavenofishbehind.DidtheycomefromtheGreatCoral ReefinAustraliaortheworld-famouscoralreefsoftheRedSea?TheNorthorSouth?TheEastorWest? TheShallowortheDeep?Howdidtheygethere?Floating,thinking,imagining,Iputmyselfinthe perspectivesoftheseanimals.I’mconsumedinthelivesofthecreatures,theplants,thebodyofwater surroundingme.Iamnotgrapplingwiththeoverwhelmingfeelingsoflife.Myanxietyisdrownedin tranquility;Iamonanewplanet Thisoceanfeelslikemyocean WhenIswimthroughthisworld, everything negative floats away I’m left with a changed mindset, a new perspective, a greater understandingoftheworldaroundmeIbreathethatthoughtin,Iletitsinkinmyheart,andsuddenly,I havefoundmyselfagain

InfLUENCE: AN INTROSPECTION

K I M T O R P E Y

Theideathatdiseasebringsgiftsisatruthhardtowrestle.Sevenyearsaftermymother’sdeath,Icontinue tosiftthroughthiscontradictionLatein2017,Parkinson’sdiseaseanditsrelateddementiatookholdofmy familyandguidedusdownaheartbreakingpathThewomanwhospentherentireadultlifecaringforme wassickNothinginmyworldhadeverbeensotaxingandheavy,yetIcameouttheothersideofthe diseasewithaclearerunderstandingofmypurposeParkinson’sgifttomewasclarityIcouldnowname mypurpose,thenlivebyit.Inshort,IknewwithcertaintythatIwantedtobelikemymomandthather examplehasalwaysbeenmylawoflife.Whatguidedmymomguidesmenow.Shewouldtellyouthatasa daughter,sister,wife,andmother,everydecisionshemadewasruledbyaneedtotakecareofpeople.I choosetowalkinthoseshoes.

I’vetakensometimetoconsiderhowIhavewalkedinthoseshoes.

1Asadaughter,caringforothersmeantlettingmymombrushandcurlmyhaireventhoughIhatedit. .

2.Asasister,caringforotherswasseeninmywillingnesstoeatthestrawberryportionofNeapolitan icecreambecausemysisterdidn’tlikeit.

3.Asawife,itisseeninmyneedtocontinuallyfindwaystocommunicatemyappreciation.

4Asamother,itisseeninmyneedtoalways,always,alwaysgivemygirlswhattheyneedofme:my time,myattention,andmyresources

Iamfarfromperfect.Iamflawedandawkward,andIfailatleasteighttimesaday.Whathelpsmenavigate myshortcomings,though,isadesiretoforgiveothersoftheirshortcomingsandtoassumethegood,bring somefun,andcareforothers.Again,Iwanttobelike her.

Alongwithfineandgrossmotorfunctioning,mymotherlosthersenseofrealityduetoParkinson’sdisease. UnlikeAlzheimer’spatients,sheknewexactlywhoIwas,butdependingontheday,hour,orminute,she wouldseesix-year-oldKimor21-year-oldKim.ThiswasanunforeseengiftbutoneItreasuredeeply.I gotafirst-handglimpseintohowsheinteractedwithmeasasmallchildandhowattentiveshewastomy well-being.Iholdthesefoggymomentscloseandrefertothemwhengriefreacquaintsitself.

Whenwemadethedecisiontoplacemymominhospicecare,weneverleftherside.Oneday,itwas unusuallysunnyandclearforaNovembermorninginVirginia.Thisinspiredmysistertowritesome remembrancesinherjournalSheaskedmymomtodescribeeachofherchildren,sons-in-law,and grandchildrenHerdescriptionsrangedfromcurrentlyaccuratetohistoricallyconfusedWhenshegotto me,myhearthungintheairShesaid,“Gonk?Oh,shegiveschildrenwords”Afterlovingmefordecades, myconfusedmotherwithhermurkyinterpretationofrealityzeroedinonmyprofessionandwhyIchose it.Totakecareofpeople.Inthatmoment,Ifeltknown.Thiswasherdeconstructedviewof

meandmyvalue–arudimentaryassessmentofheryoungestdaughter.Inthatmoment,Ifeltwrappedin herlove.Hersweetwordsvalidatedmypurpose.

Thereishistorybehindherfinalassessmentofme,datingbacktowhenIwasinthefourthgrade.My familyrentedahousethathadacolossalchalkboardinthebasementThebasementwasdarkandmoldridden,butthechalkboardcoveredanentirewallIcouldn’t–andstillcan’t–believemygoodfortune Thatyear,IaskedforthefullspectrumofcoloredchalkforChristmasIneededchalktoteachthe hundredsofinvisiblestudentsinmychargeIwouldspendhoursteachingchildreninthatgross basement.Icoveredtheslatewallwithbasicarithmetic,vocabulary,andscientificfacts.Myimagination sentagenerationofimaginarystudentsintotheworld,eachcapableofgreatthings.Iwasnine,butIwas anurturer.Ididn’tunderstandthisatthetime.Isimplythoughtchalkwasfun,andforsomereason,my imaginationalwaysshapedmeintoateacher.Mymomwasnotateacher,butshewastheworld’sbest spellerandhadtheworld’smostgorgeoushandwriting.Tome,bothaddeduptoherbeingTeacherof theYear,soherencouragementdrovemetokeepnurturing,leading,teaching,andcaringThegiftof mymother’sfinalwordsaboutmeledtomonthsofretrospection.I’vesettledonthis:IfIboilitdown, thegoverningprincipleofmylifeiswantingtobetheladywithaband-aidoratissueoranextrasnack. Icanhelp!ismyfaith.Parkinson’sandmymom’sfinalwordsconcerningher“Gonk”giftedmethis insight.Whenthingsgowrong,Iwantchildrento“lookforthehelpers”asinstructedbyFredRogers, andfindmethere.Irealizethisisaromanticnotion;therefore,asIage,IremindmyselfthatIcanbe meanandjudgyasweareallapttobeattimes.Itrytocheckmyegooften,makingsuremymotivesare aboutotherpeopleandnotaboutself-importance.Shewantedmetoseemyselfclearlyandhonestly,soI auditmymotivationsinhername

Intheend,IwanttomakesurethatIamawareofmyinfluenceWhatlittlecontributionscanImaketo easetheburdenofanotherperson?AmIpayingattentiontothepeoplearoundme,andamIthereto helpcarryheavythingsforthepeopleIlove?Igetimmediatefeedbackfrommyfamily:Iknowwhen theyareokayandwhentheyarenotokay.Itisharderinmyprofession,butthatdoesnotstopmefrom showingup.Iknowstudentsarefightingsilentbattles.Iknowtheyarestrugglingwithwhotheyare fundamentallyandwhotheyarecurrentlybeingduetocircumstancesbeyondtheircontrol;therefore,I wanttoguidethemthewaysheguidedme.

Isuppose,inthislife,thebestIcandoisemulateherbest.

P H O T O G R A P H Y

S C U L P T U R E

P A I N T I N G & D R A W I N G

Editor Bios

Quill & Canvas Review

N E O A B B E Y

Grade10

Hi!I'mNeo,andIamnewtothe Quill & Canvas Review thisyearandsofarithasbeenwonderful.I've alwayshadaloveforwritingpoetrybecauseitallows metoexpressthethingsIexperienceandfeel,andI thinkeveryoneshouldhaveanoutlettoventwhat they feel and do in life. There is nothing more beautifulthanseeingsomeonewhoembracesahobby thattheyenjoy.IalsoreallylovetheartistLanaDel Reybecauseofherstyleofmusicandthetopicsshe talksaboutinhermusic.Music,ingeneral,hasalways beensomethingIenjoy.Someofmyfavoriteartists areLanaDelReyaspreviouslymentioned,Selena Quintilla,Boa,MelaineMartinez,andStevieNicks.

B R Y N G A L L I V A N

Grade11

This is my second year in EHS’s Literary Magazine. It's been an amazing experience allowing me to express my feelings through design,art,andpoetry.Itissomuchfunlooking atsubmissions,readingotherpeople'spoetryand prose,andlookingatartcreatedbyothers.Ilove thefeelingofexpressingmyemotionsthrough something that can be experienced by other people.

R E D A S E B B A H I

Grade11

"Perfection'tomeis,Iwalkawayfroma situationandsay,'IdideverythingIcoulddo rightthere.’"

-Drake

S O R E N S M I T H

Grade11

…Raindropskeepfallingonmyhead Butthatdoesn'tmeanmyeyeswillsoonbe turningred Crying'snotforme 'Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complaining BecauseI'mfree Nothing'sworryingme

-BJThomas,RaindropsKeepFallingOnMyHead

C I A R A N T I B B E T T S

Grade11

“ThomasEdison'slastwordswere’It'svery beautiful over there’. I don't know where thereis,butIbelieveit'ssomewhere,andI hopeit'sbeautiful.”

-JohnGreen,LookingforAlaska

FACULTY SPONSOR BIOS

J E S S C O M B E S T EnglishTeacher

Whatreallyknocksmeoutisa bookthat,whenyou'realldone readingit,youwishtheauthor thatwroteitwasaterrificfriendof yoursandyoucouldcallhimup onthephonewheneveryoufelt likeit.

-J.D.Salinger,"TheCatcherintheRye"

K I M T O R P E Y EnglishTeacher

“Thatispartofthebeautyofall literature. Youdiscoverthatyour longingsareuniversallongings,that you'renotlonelyandisolatedfrom anyone.Youbelong.”

-FScottFitzgerald

TotheamazingcommunityofartistsandwritersatEaglecrestHighSchool:

Weareinaweoftheincredibletalentthatfillsourhallseveryday.Yourcontributionstothe magazineareatestamenttothecreativity,passion,andinnovationwithinourbuilding. Thankyouforsharingyourvoiceswithus.

ToJayneJones:

Thankyouforyour consultation.Yourartisticvisionisunparalleledandbrought ourpublicationtothenextlevel!

Tothe Quill & Canvas Review editorialstaff:

YouarethebackboneofthispublicationYourhardwork,dedication,andloveforwords andartareevidentoneverypage.Thankyouforyourtirelesseffortsinmakingthismagazine possible.AsEinsteinoncesaid,"Creativityiscontagious,sopassiton."

Thankyouforpassingiton.

Withgratitude, Your Faculty Sponsors