Mirage | Spring 2022

BLINK OF AN EYE

DAWNING ON THE RAIN S

we arr ived at the gr and canyon and it softens against your spine r ust melds to your feet and car ves out a hollow at the base of your neck

do you remember the whiplash before the wreck? gr avity null, hair froze in the breeze . emer ged with blood on our foreheads hood cr umpled

my lungs limped when you sobbed at my steer ing coupe; ashed what it

bir thed i want you to know that this scene these boulder s will one day erode , bend to tor rents and become the sand it once came from and

i want you to know that this stone and these tr ails have kissed dir tier people , ones who’ve messed up more than you and i want you to know

that recover y isn’t linear and that this scene will embr ace you regardless; that i’ll dr ive fur ther than you’ll ever want to again so that you’d under stand

we arr ived at the gr and canyon for it to r ain to muddy to brown the scene but you are clean and for given. you will live to see the cusp of another hor izon.

WH A T I SEE IN Y OU MINJAE LEE

a senseless day, overcast breath unstable , trek the path too mired r ainless today, it worr ies me owed to none , but you, my tear s that mour n your laugh str ipped of its mir th grounded puddles, over pass until never, you deem yourself admired elusive embr ace , it hurr ies me nigh undone , but yet, hold dear the hope you see within your wor th at least you see in me what all see in you let ends to end, and pasts to pass entails much pain, bonds that last eventually your pained facades sur passed

PEEKING THROUGH HAN SCHUBER TH

GHOS T S FELICIA PARK

FIELD OF FIRE

EMILY PAVLIK

patches of land in awe . A br ief wind pulls at the ends of my hair, a shor t whisper sang through the air.

them, a steady pace tur ns to a r un for the small herb. But the gr ass begins to shor ten, and the green washes brown, however, I continue my path through the meadow.

ade And a fearful sur ge creeps across my path: go a w a y I close my eyes

The song had vanished A strong scent of invades my nose , and my eyes pr ick at the sight of red

F l a k e s of gr ass glow or ange and melt into a I choke at the sight of death s p r e a d i n g past me . I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t sur render.

Where have my dandelions gone?

THE ILL USION OF GODHOOD

TEERADA THIA

There’s a deep forest behind your house , dar k and full of myster y. It reminds you of your childhood, where you r an through the gr ass and ducked under br anches, looking for a lost city.

There’s little left More than half of the trees have been cut down, leaving only rotted stumps A thin dir t path winds its way through the trees You haven’t used it in decades, but you set out, hoping you remember the way back Stiff br anches br ush you as you walk Roots slither into your path to tr y and tr ip you up, but somehow, you remember where they are Roots are only the slow legs of the trees They don’t grow ver y fast, but they are quite strong. A deer dashes into your line of sight You give a shout of sur pr ise , pinwheel backwards, tr ip, and land on your back. The deer, spooked, (it doesn’t have a r ight to be spooked, it jumped in your path!) leaps away. A shot r ings out, but far, far away. You wince at the sound, regretting your last thought.

cr awling out, covered in mud and twigs. He has fuzzy nut brown hair and eyes as deep and r ich as mud. In his ar ms is a little otter pup, fast asleep. The boy looks up at you and bleats in alar m. The bush r ustles again and from behind him, a young gir l with deer like eyes stares at you. Her dar k hair is tied back behind her. She holds a hunting knife in her hands that is shaped like a crescent moon.

You r ise and br ush the debr is from your clothes. “It’ll be gone in a few year s,” you say speculatively to the forest, pretending not to notice .

The boy stiffens, and, in a heavy yet high young voice , wise beyond his year s,

“I know.” The gir l pats his shoulder comfor tingly. Despite her relation with the other forest hunter s, she despises them

“Can you stop them?” she asks.

“Can you?”

You hesitate , then say, “I can tr y ”

“Tr y ”

“I will Pan ” it for a second before playing a single haunting scale and then puts it back in his pocket. “My name is Peter and this is Ar ta. The old god Pan is dead. Why are you in my forest?”

You crouch down to look the children in the eyes. They stare r ight back, the gir l’s

me a stor y?” you whisper.

“What about?”

“Tell me about the wild at night.”

THE QUEEN AND THE KING

Two homeless men sit on the curb One of them is holding a cardboard sign

The for th. He is a bit dr unk. Another woman and a little gir l sit on a bench not far from them. The gir l has he is tr ying so hard not to. You pull out your wallet and take out twenty dollar s. You admit, you didn’t think brought more money, food too. You crouch down in front of the one holding the sign and hold out the bill. He stares at you for a second, then hugs you tightly. His unshaven face is scr aggly and dashed with scar s that match his ar ms. His eyes are a deep clay red. One of them is made of glass that points downwards to his mangled cheek. “Thank you, ” he whisper s in your ear. “Thank you. ” He pulls back to show the money to his fr iend, whose eyes immediately br ighten. The dr unk shakes your hand enthusiastically One of his eyes are a dull olive green

The other is a maroon wine

You set your backpack to the wall Both men stare at you.

“Hello, Ares,” you say to the one with the sign To the dr unk, “Dionysus ”

“Aaron,” says the veter an.

“Diego,” mutter s the dr unk “What do you want?”

You frown at an old discarded syr inge lying next to Diego. He catches your gaze sadly and shakes his head. “Not me ,” he whisper s. “A fr iend. He- she died yesterday.” Aaron let out a dr y sob then cr umples against the wall, shiver ing. You move to comfor t him and when you touch his hand, it is as cold as ice . Diego sits next to him, whisper ing with alcohol slur red words. Soon, he recover s, though paler than ever.

“Why are you here?” he says. “Why am I here?”

“Tell me how it feels to be br ave ,” you r asp, tur ning away, “tell me how it feels to be happy.”

of war mth into the cold room. It’s dar k out, a few of the star s twinkle lightly and the moon is a full circle in the sky. You send a silent pr ayer to Ar temis, even though she is not there . Even though she is human and you haven’t found her yet. It’s going to take a long time , you know It’s only been a couple dozen human year s since your family fell, but already they’ve split and disper sed You’ve only found four out of hundreds, but four is better than none

No hear th is a hear th without its family.

THE WORLD AS A L ABYRINTH

EMILY YUNDA -RAIJER

ASHES

KAITLYN JIANG

Photo #1: A gir l in a school unifor m, head thrown back in laughter. An empty photogr aphy room.

plastic br ackets. Dust suspended in sunlight shining in through the window lands on the black leather

“Is this r ight?” I ask you.

“No, it’s not, silly,” you say, taking the camer a

“This way, you can take one extr a picture .

“What are you, a par rot?” You smile faintly I dissolve into giggles.

Snap. I look up, seeing you lower the camer a from your face , smiling.

Photo #2: A group of high school students, one motioning to someone .

It’s the end of our senior year You’re hiding your gr ieving under a br ight smile .

“Hey, don’t just stand there! Let’s take a picture!” I yell to you, throwing my ar ms around our fr iends. You’re hiding a worr ied expression beneath your placid face as you hold your

Come and join us, I say, motioning with my hands, squinting in the sun. You refuse with a soft smile . Snap.

After you take the picture , you come up to me . Our fr iends look at you weirdly, like you’re talking to your self. You ask if I’m okay.

“Yeah!” I say with a little too much enthusiasm

Photo #3: A gir l, disheveled and tired, smiling faintly. An empty cafe booth. You’re sitting at a booth in our favor ite cafe , waiting for me . You check your watch; I’m thir ty minutes late . I’m never late . The bell attached to the front door r ings, and you see me step in, hair disheveled and mascar a streaked across my face in clean lines, like I never even bothered to wipe my eyes.

in six year s, since senior year. You went to community college . I went to Pr inceton. We eat inple of people from a booth next to us look at you like you ’ re cr azy. wrong? I must be tired. You still have your camer a. “Let’s take a picture ,” you say. Snap.

The door to your apar tment swings open and slams against the wall. You don’t have a doorstop.

“This place smells disgusting ” It’s your dad’s voice “How long has it been since you stepped foot out of this room, huh?”

“She’s gone ,” You choke on sobs. He asks you who you’re talking about. You’re talking about me , you tell him, you’re sure he camer a, but I’m not there . It’s like I’ve disappeared from the face of the ear th. He stor ms out, mutter ing to himself, wonder ing why he even tr ied to help you You’ve always been a hopeless child.

Later, you look at the photos again. I’m not in any of them. The one you swore you took of me in the photogr aphy room is a haphazard picture of the window. The one you took of me and our fr iends has a gap where I was. The one you took of me in the cafe is a picture of an empty cafe booth.

The weird looks you’ve gotten from people when you talk to me , and why our high school fr iends don’t remember me It all makes sense now I was never there

You’re angr y; angr y at me for not being real, angr y at your self for believing. You take a lighter

Snap. All that’s left of my existence is now ashes.

So there’s this circular thing called a clock Its got:

A bunch of little lines equidistant from each other along the outside

CIRCUL AR THING

ISS AC BERNS TEIN

And some of em got number s next to em In the middle , you got these dynamic lines, That go all the way to the outside . . . They move in a direction that most people call clockwise , but they just spinnin’ around in circles, No need for fancy words

So, apparently: These lines that spin around and meet other lines with number s are

Apparently . . . These lines that spin in circles, They pinpoint this thing called time

And apparently, as I r ide this Ferr is wheel, This circular thing with lines This 12-dimensional object called life

I gotta watch that clock –Like my life is on the line , Like if I don’t Watch That Clock

I will surely die

But I don’t get what it means When someone says:

“I’m r unning out of time ”

Cause once the quicker and longer long line and the slower shor ter long line reaches the little line at the tippy top of the circle: It just spins around one more time

REFLECTION

CHLOE ARCIERO

you cr awled deep inside my chest twisted your ar ms around my lungs and made a home in my r ibs.

you said you’d never hur t me but you twisted and tur ned, pulling and pinching my soul until it bent to your will.

you built a temple inside my hear t, ador ning it with pretty pear ls of pr aise . but with you gone it cr umbles to dust, a r uin i can’t replace . now i wonder if your shining smile was ever as br ight as it seemed.

HEAD IN THE CLOUDS

ALIYA TORESKAR

BECOMING MR.CHIC

ALEX YUNDA -RAIJER

the whisper s. your simplistic words sounded so beautiful. your char ms str uck wonder s, and your words held power your tr ust sank deep beneath my skin. but the soft lies and your br uised ego danced beneath my nose . an oblivious love .

A T OXIC LOVE

EMILY PAVLIK

RHANDA HAL AWAH

Among the canvas there you lay enclosed, Assembled by the tr aces of my br ush. With time your validity unopposed, Eager to gain life you are in no r ush The foundation of your creation fade , While you begin to take more of substance . You are nothing more than a masquer ade , As tense linen meets you with reluctance . But you are not just a constr uct to me . Come to be known in the physical realm, Ear thly bodies not yet ready to see To tr anspire or not, such an overwhelm. For eter nity do idealists breathe , Imagination will be yet to seethe .

EMILY YUNDA -RAIJER

My bones are made of marble pillar s

My ar ms and legs, of redwood

My eyes the searching beam of suns

With a cr y that r uns as blood

I AM A GIANT TIA CHAIKET

My muscles, made of metal

My will is hard as iron

The ground trembles when I settle

My joy spreads growth and love

While my fur y seeks destr uction

My sadness br ings the water from above

And my passion’s blocked by no obstr uction

My hands, though lar ge , are deft and smar t

My wits wor k just as well

A pump beats in my chest, my hear t

My self stored in my cells

There will always be those who hate me

And people who tr y to shame

But there will always be ones who love me

And their love will never wane

tide

My scream the howl of stor ms

For though I am the Ear th

My hear t beats just as your s

I shall help those who stand by my side

And keep those behind me war m

And I am not of wor th

Without the love of other s

I am a giant

HIDDEN FLOWER

I’ve Touched A Red Rose

I´ve Found a rose . Amongst the mist it emer ged fair, and dauntless like dawn´s merciful kiss on intangible hor izons. embedded in the thor ns its silhouette stood small, and petals fr ial all allur ing and inspir ing, like fall´s ancient leaves deter mined hold on r ugged maple trees.

I´ve watched her The way her eyes spar kle when met with delight like exploding star s from which she was bor n The way her tempting plush lips open, close and contr act as she expresses her self, and even the way her top lip folds up as she tr ies talking while smiling I´ve even witnessed those same star s shed beautiful tear s of mending I´ve witnessed those plush tempting lips not tempt at all,

In a quiet gaze I watched her sway, leap and step to the calling of melodic rhythms as if it controlled her ver y soul. A rose petal captured by the wind, freeing itself from its incagement. Only her freedom is tempor ar y.

Within my eyes of unproven, she was never a common white like those of seagulls roaming the vast sky aimlessly above shores. Never was she a deep pur ple , an enr iched color inher ited by the boisterous amethyst cr ystal. No. Emer ged from the mist stood a bold majestic cr imson rose , my most favor ite of the color s.

Entr anced by her beauty. I am but a moth to the light. I’m not afr aid of the thor ns as they are what makes a rose , a rose . I reach closer, and closer…I know there is beauty in pain, and pain in beauty, but I love it all.

FUNHOUSE JIHYEKIM

You were nice . You were funny and spontaneous and kind. I wanted to be your fr iend, I wanted to be you. And we were fr iends… for a while . Your sarcastic humor gr adually tur ned into shar p-tongued comments and

with anxiety I held onto you for so long I remembered the summer time

how we guessed what the future would br ing us I wanted to go back to the way things used to be The more we grew apar t, the more I realized just how many memor ies I had fabr icated to make you seem faultless Sor ting through to see what was real and what was fake became a confusing challenge that made me feel so helpless You weren’t always the bad guy, or maybe you were .

WHO WERE YOU?

EMMA SNOW

This was a mistake . Is what I couldn’t help but think as I tr aver sed the sandy deser t. Why did I think tr aveling to Egypt was a good idea? Oh r ight, I wanted to go to Memphis but my so-called “fr iends” left me behind in the deser t as a pr ank. I swear I’m never tr aveling with people ever again, it’ll just be me and my dog Br uno but even

This is bad I r an out of water a few minutes ago or was it hour s? Yup it’s hour s the sun is a lot lower than when I last viewed it I’m using the sun to tell time now, I might as well use my empty plastic water bottle as a sundial To tr uly get into that ancient Egyptian lifestyle , I’ll use papyr us as toilet paper and wor ship cats as gods Ugh the lack of water is getting to my head, I’m so thir sty I feel like I’ll shr ivel up like a pr une . If I die I’ll become a ghost and haunt my fr iends. That thought made me feel a little better about my situation, I’m still thir sty though. But…could it be? That glint in the distance…the diamond in the mines, the silver in the r ust, the r ipe mango in the trees, the water in the deser t! I made haste towards the shimmer in the distance , I r an and panted like I had …………

Twas but a lie , the light I saw was merely a metal bottle cap that the sun hit a no water, no relief, no salvation. There is no God, only pain. “Yo Ricky! When are you gonna stop cr ying and get out of the sand?!”

“I’m on my angst arc Damian!”

“We’ve been following you for two hour s! Stop being a Dr ama Queen and get in the car!”

My fr iends drove by in their tr uck, they’ve been following me this entire time but I refuse to get in until I get proper amends “You guys need to apologize for eating my gummy wor ms ”

Memphis Now get in the car!.. Please ”

“Hmpf adequate .” I climbed into the air conditioned backseat next to Damian “Theater kid” he mumbled spitefully. “I will get out of this car,” I war ned, which followed a chor us of groans and pleas for me to cease the dr amatics. “Wipe your face ,” One of my fr iends piped up, “tear s waste water.”

SEED

UNKNOWN OF CHIC AGO

BELL A PEHAR

Chicago, Streets of the unknown built by those who knew what greatness would cultivate within the rooms of the skyscr aper s they envisioned would one ar ise from the br ick mor tar steel & bluepr ints.

a city without a doubt capable of innovation intelligence & intellectuals.

greatness out of a notebook pencil & some rhymes

Picking up blurbs of thoughts spar ks & ideas they got from the glance of a tree then tur ning it into a master piece of liter ature .

revisions er aser s & cr umbled paper s. Dreams settled in one hand while the other hand scr ibbles them down as fast as it can before they vanish gone lost in the city of Chicago

we think its a city Just Chicago

But it’s a palace of poetr y Smudged with dreams and gr it Hear t of the hard wor ker s Who love Chicago

FAL SE ISOL ATION ALEXIS SEED

MISCONCEPTION

FELICIA PARK

WE ARE HUMAN

S ARAH KIM

What if I told you you are perfect?

Would you believe me?

Or would you only wait for dusk to r un to the magic mirrored pond?

What if I told you how imperfect you are?

Would you accept it?

void momentar ily?

What if I told you that there’s no one like you?

Would you hear me?

Or would you plug your stubbor n ear s with blue stones?

Now, what if I told you that ever yone’s like you?

Would you believe me then?

when the tree outside your window waves, wave back. it gets lonely sometimes and you know how that feels.

COHABITATION

COHABITATION

CHLOE ARCIERO

leave a candle bur ning for the creature in your closet,

and don’t leave cr umbs in the pockets of your jeans because it despises the mess.

when you see something in the mir ror that isn’t really there , don’t wor r y. the thing in the cor ner is just checking up on you.

You Create • We Collaborate • Calliope

We hope you e njoy our newes t edi tion of C alliope , Chasing the Light, a s much a s we did cr eating i t . A s G le nbr ook Sou t h ’ s li te r ar y and visual ar t s maga zine , we showca se a var iet y of poet r y, shor t s tor ies , essays , photogr aphs , and visual ar t We value all cr eative s tude nt s at G B S and their wor k , and we s t r ive to pr ese nt their incr edible ar t to our communi t y

EDI TORS

EDITORS-IN-CHIEF

Sar ah K im

Sydney K im

PUBL IC REL AT IONS DIREC TOR

J acqueline Maciusze k

PHOTOGRAPHY

A lex Yunda- R aije r

POETRY

M eghan Noe

B ella Pe har

PROSE

Da sle Han

Emma S now

VISUAL ARTS

Mar isol Da shnaw

Ve r onik a G liwa

Sal Mona s te r o

ADVISOR

M r s . A mie Elliot t

S TA FF

Me r idet h A nde r son

A bbie G ifar gis

Ava Hage r

K ai tly n J iang

J ihye K im

Mina K im

Olivia K im

Samir a Quevedo

A lexis Seed

A llie S heles t

Sonali Vy a s

T im Wal te r s

A nn Xu

GR A DUAT ING

EDI TORS

EDITORS-IN-CHIEF

Sar ah K im

PUBL IC REL AT IONS DIREC TOR

J acqueline Maciusze k

PHOTOGRAPHY

A lex Yunda- R aije r

PROSE

Da sle Han

Emma S now

VISUAL ARTS

Mar isol Da shnaw

Ve r onik a G liwa

Sal Mona s te r o

KEY L ARGO AT NIGHT HAN SCHUBER TH