The Cycle Ends

The bright light greets me, followed by the deafening chatter of tiny birds. New beginnings budding from the ash. Dark clouds crying with tears of joy.

Pale skin darkening under the sweltering heat, Met with screams from the sky, Sweet nectar released by the fresh fruit, rushing out like a river.

Fresh summer breeze exits the atmosphere. Flames of fire flutter in the field. The floor has yet to be found. Warm and tender feelings in the air.

Burrowing inside the house, not even lava can keep me warm, Grieving times of life and expecting rebirth Festering and trapped inside the self-imposed dungeon

The months turn into years, and no buds bloom. The deep, dark blue surrounds us all, and we return to the ocean before we are due. The dark clouds of love are early, bargaining for what I took for granted will change nothing. Simone French ‘25

O beloved Starbucks Drink, You compassionate, delicious thirst quencher, Radiating a soulful pink, My immediate day mender. The perfect afterschool pick-me-up, All coming from a Venti size cup.

What amazing guilty pleasure!

My eager mouth waters like a fresh puddle of rain, Excitement fills me to the brim as I watch the barista measure. How are you able to eliminate all my pain!

O wonderous first sip feeling, All my problems rise away to the ceiling.

Pink drink, pink drink Starbucks’ sweetest, sealed surprise. I love looking at the lusciousness of your liquid, The most beautiful sight to my awaiting eyes. What angelic, shade of light pink that shows through the clear container, When placing my order, it is really a no brainer!

O liquid bundle of joy!

O delightful, sugary refresher!

O source of true happiness!

O amazing fatigue suppressor!

O popular pink drink, Consume it all in a blink!

Your fresh, cold ice cubes keep me awake, Dancing across the brim of the liquid, Like an elegant swan floating along a lake. What glistening beauty shines through your clear cup, As the sun hits through the window on the left, I say, “Bottoms up!”

O pink drink, pink drink, Your beauty does not go unknown, Despite what one may think, My love for you is shown.

If happiness could be bottled, I’d drink you every day Gulp. But until then, my friend, I’ll be in dismay.

Earlier today, I spoke. I spoke over silence. I spoke over sound. I spoke over people with something to say. But now I am silent, awkward, listening. Maybe I always have been.

You are not silent or awkward or listening. Yet, your great mind cannot find something to say either. I feel your urge for noise as you turn up the volume. My eardrums are not empty, but still, they search. They search for comments and get one. You are all too predictable.

I am too. I plan out my morning and night. I’m planning out this drive–take a sharp right at this tree. You tell a joke, I roll my eyes. When I turn my head, I know what I will find. A sly, stupid side-smirk. Predictable.

We drive in the car. We do not sing. We do not speak. I hear a slam, a swear, a beat. There is so much to hear. There is nothing to say. Comfortable silence is louder now.

I could stay here for a million years. In this car, in this loud silence. Nothing can get to me here. There is no judgment or fear. I do not have to try. I am who I am. When there is nothing to say, I can say nothing at all.

Sometimes we will speak. Remember your freshman year at the beach. Remember our religions.

Recuerda eso no puedo hablar español.

But now I am silent again, and I would not have it another way. Sarah Giordano ‘25

Questions from a Woman

Why are we considered secondary,

To those who do not understand the burdens we carry?

Why are we held to higher standards,

When they are the ones who need to learn some manners?

Why are we burdened with the responsibility?

Of protecting ourselves because of that possibility?

Why are we victims of the unnecessary?

When will they learn? We’re sick and tired of the commentary.

Why do we allow rules made by men who are grown, Based off their opinions what our bodies should or should not condone?

Why are we still accepting the control and command,

Of the people who will never experience these problems firsthand?

Why are we seen as brainless as a bird, When for so long they would not let our voices be heard?

Why are we never given enough credit for our grit, When we fall, we know how to bounce back from our hit?

When did they assume their position as primary?

Probably when they were intimidated by women that were legendary. When will they accept that she is a force; unbreakable and strong?

So, the real question is: why were we held back for so long?

Grace Githens ‘25

The Golden Shadows

As body standards arrive, women fight to stay alive. Little girls' confidence is starting to die.

Little do we know that the future has a surprise.

I wish womanhood were as easy as eating ice cream, But it is a nonpaying job that has the hardest degree. It could seem like roses, but with thorns still being a thing.

Being a woman is finding your voice for what you believe in.

Being a woman is having the pleasure of always going first. Being a woman is experiencing the growth of your own confidence. Being a woman is being willing to rise after being shot.

As shocking styles and standards start to strive, It’s the constant need to always be over the standard five. Dealing with many miserable men will always be in our lives. The hope of equality between gender roles will always be in a women's eyes.

The laughing of children is music to women's ears, Always having to please people for their own needs. Women have the power to nurture baby birds. Women are so strong and powerful in what they withhold.

You stand preaching non-violence But your violence fills the world with silence like a fly, Only coming out when you start to pry,

I see through your fake kindness Instead, you refill your dark void which is screaming with violence. You don’t hold compassion. Your mercy you ration.

Your mindset is set straight Is there anything I can do to make you change? You hold your head up tall But violence is the one that speaks for you all.

We must take away your power, Causing you to cower

I won't back down till your violence is concealed, But I know you, always putting up an exposing shield

Is it really your goal to add fuel to the fire? You're walking on a tightrope drawn into a wire, While my goal is to spread kindness

I can't do that if you stay silent! Fiona Haberstroh ‘25

The clouds smile, and words flow out.

Songs are sung almost silently, only for the listener to hear And her mind becomes devoid of doubt.

She seems at peace to those who stare, But what she is seeing is left only for her eyes. Her head is filled with her hopes.

When sleeping soundly on the shore, Dreams one of a kind can be imagined.

And sometimes so surreal that one can only wish for more. Taking place in a location too magical to ever be creat, Full of peace and beauty, But often too much to see.

The unicorn soars in the heavens like a bird, As if it is the only cure

To a lifeless life.

A way to escape reality

For a single night, just one dream.

A fish-like woman fallen ill from the deep blue, Brought to the shore by an unsuspecting sailor, One who got separated from his crew.

He trusts easily and has no worries about what she could be. The chance that she could be an evil fish. One whose motive is to harm, a Siren.

The flowing river does not stay straight. Instead, it twists and turns below, Bending in a dream like state. Wild colors, wild imagination, wild creatures Becoming free for a night That will keep them satisfied.

A dream is never planned.

They appear seemingly out of nowhere Arising from a place that others

Specific to one’s own thoughts and mind

Never knowing if they truly exist

Maybe in another world, in another life…

Lauren Haenn ‘25