roots /// branches
Student Editors: Soli Augspurger '22, Brighton Hall '22, Netty Kantner '24, and CC Barnett '24 Teacher Advisor: Joni Nelson Cover Artwork: Earth by Abby Snider '23 All opinions expressed through art and writing are solely those of the artist and in no way representative of the Davenport School District, Central High School, or its faculty. Programs used are Canva and fonts used are Margin and CMU Serif
Indigo Ink Volume 10
2021-2022
Central High School 1120 Main Street Davenport, IA 52803
“every crag and gnarled tree and lonely valley has its own strange and graceful legend attached to it” - douglas hyde
/// '21-'22 For this year’s edition of Indigo Ink, we chose the theme “roots and branches.” Since two of us are graduating this year, we wanted to take the time to think about our futures and the impact we want to make on the world (our branches) and remember the people and experiences that shaped us into who we are today (our roots). We hope that by enjoying the art that is presented in this magazine, you will be able to do the same.
soli augspurger '22 brighton hall '22 netty kantner '24 cc barnett '24
table of contents poetry and prose
5 "roots and branches" benie toko '25
56 "what my voice can do" olivia maylone '23
7 "twin flame" estelle maris
27 "dear nature" jack norton '23
10 "my meet with fate" samantha mcdonald '22
29 "winter melody" estelle maris
13 "peace" estelle maris
31 "divergent insurrection" olivia maylone '23
15 "kali and fergie" lola nakashima-brooke '24
34 "good night" takiya jackson '23
18 "the nightmare" oliver klipsch '22
35 "whatever happened to fairytales" rebekah kalmbach '23
20 "paradise of misery" rhiannon gomez '22
38 "the loop" lol nakashima-brooke '24
21 "my heart and home" sophie pepper '23
39 "voicemails" natalie burmeister '24
24 "king of the heights" jack norton '23
43 "growth" grace o'melia '23
table of contents artwork
6 "cut cords" keasia edwards '25
18 "focus" mia mccrery '22
8 "fire and ice" abbey snider '23
19 "the plug mug" morgan ferris '23
9 "lion stack" carley tomlinson '23
20 "overwhelmed" brooklyn caulkins '25
9 "angry crayon" bryce powell '22
21 "love hurts" gabriella smith '24
12 "torn" mia mccrery '22 13 "bushel of flowers" kamryn benson '25 14 "infatuation" adrianna corry '24
30 "sounds of beauty" keasia edwards '25 32 "behind the mask" megan crews '22
33 "spiraling " mia mccrery '22 22 "the beauty of nature" gabriella smith '24 36 "book of dragons" grace lane '23 23 "from dark to light" keasia edwards '25 37 "yahiko" bryce powell '22 25 "touch" grace lane '23
16 "growing together" 26 "galaxy" morgan ferris '23 makenzie jackson '24 17 "aloe" carley tomlinson '23
28 "healing humanity's cruelty" sarelle fredenburg '22
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41 untitled mia mccrery '22 42 "singling out" kamryn benson '25
Roots and Branches benie toko '25
Roots and Branches Roots and branches spreading about Reaching reaching all around Branches out Left and right Izquierda, derecha Mighty and stout Roots reaching way down low Providing support When roots go up, Everything comes down So build a foundation stronger than roots So your branches can hold up a crown
5
Cut Cords
keasia edwards '25 6
Twin Flame estelle maris
Horrible is the drought; the end. never before has broken felt so shattered. my heart scattered like a mother mad at her children… the glass broken on the floor inciting pain on all. the whole city mourned the loss of love. oh, how your voice haunts me. I see you laugh with others but you do not laugh with me. you do not meet my eyes. the secret smile it has been lost, long gone. I have buried my home in you. I am but a stranger in this land. must I close the door to this love? must I meet someone else? how could any other do?
I will perish if any man takes me from you. I will long for you eternally, but you will not care for me. you’re cutting time short and loosening the rope that held us together, setting it on fire while you could escape but I could not. you have ruined me, happily. you have broken me, gladly. you have left me, smiling. it is the drought. it is the end. as I sit here inflamed with the fire you gave me, I begin to die. maybe there was never a twinkle in your eye or a mystery in your smile… just your shadow in the flames, running away while I got burned.
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Fire and Ice
abbey snider '23
8
Angry Crayon
bryce powell '22
9
Lion Stack carley tomlinson '23
My Meet With Fate samantha mcdonald '22
I found the letter in her house. I was going through her things. There were mountains of boxes to sort through, you know. I had already gone through most of the house. Now all that was left was the study. It was coated in a thick layer of dust and something in me knew the room hadn't seen the sun in a long time. I saw an envelope lying on her desk weighed down by a little frog statue, and the ink was too smudged to see much more than a single name on the front of the envelope. In a sprawling and relaxed handwriting that I knew was a single name, “Joe.” I knew it was wrong to read but something drew me near. I couldn't help myself. I had to read the letter, I didn't know why. I just had to. I hesitantly opened the envelope. It wasn't sealed. I drew the paper out, but it was so brittle that it almost fell apart in my hands. The date was August second but the year was too smudged to read. Teardrops were scattered across the pages. The ink smelled faintly of daisies.
To My Never and Nearly Forgotten Joe, Do you remember the day you left? I do. It was autumn and you were bathed in the golden light of the afternoon when I saw you last. You seemed to glow with the light of the sun. I remember our last conversation too. We pondered what was in between life and death. You thought maybe there was nothing, you said maybe after death it was all just empty. You know I’ve never truly believed in a God but that thought made me want to pray until I couldn’t speak anymore. I’ve never been one to remember things but of all the things I forget, I know there will always be two things I remember. I’ll always remember that conversation bathed in golden light, and I’ll always remember the night I met her. It was one of the many anniversaries you loved to celebrate. I was laying on the cold tile of my bathroom floor and I could feel warmth and peace sinking into my veins for the first time in centuries. I could faintly hear the summer song of the crickets through the hole you left in my window. You remember that day you left that hole behind? I think it was spring, I can’t remember the year. You know I’ve always been awful with dates. Unlike you, you always remembered everything important. We were trying to catch toads outside the house. I remember seeing a particularly large one sitting on the window sill, staring at you. Almost like he knew who you were and wanted you to come home. I shoved you forward to get him and suddenly he croaked and you threw your bucket in a panic. It went right through my window. I still find toads in my house sometimes. I think they were left there to look for you. Maybe one of them succeeded in bringing you home. We've always been timeless souls. We aged like fine wine together throughout the winters. I remember looking through that stupid little hole in the window and staring at the stars. Just waiting for them all to blur together. I figured if you got an expiration date, I should get one too.
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I don't remember closing my eyes but when I opened them I didn’t know where I was. It seemed like home enough. There was a fireplace with a large and warm hearth, a hand carved rocking chair, and vases on the mantel. But it felt wrong. The room should have felt cozy and warm but the closer I got to the fire, the colder I felt. There was only one painting on the wall, directly above the mantle. There was one of the ocean and I swear the tides seemed to move. I could've sworn I saw lightning streak across the sky and reflect itself in the water. As I was captivated by the painting I heard the rocking chair creak. I looked back and there was a woman. She wasn't there before. At least- I don't think so. But honestly, what do I know anymore? Everything feels so wrong ever since you left. I can't remember exactly what she looked like. Only pieces. Like I was looking through a kaleidoscope. Nothing seemed to fit together on her. Everything was disjointed, like she was made of puzzle pieces from different puzzles. Everything about her was constantly shifting. Maybe she couldn't quite make up her mind as to what she looked like. But no matter what she looked like, she felt familiar. Like if I stared long enough I would know her name if her face would please just stop changing. The only part of her that was consistent was her hands. They were old and bony, I could see her tendons moving under her grey skin. Her hands never rested. In her lap there was a ball of red yarn. It seemed to glow in the light of the fire. The string was thin and the color of blood. Something about it felt wrong but I couldn't place it. She was knitting with her strange thread. I don't know what she was making, maybe a hat or blanket? Either way, the room was getting colder and colder the more yarn she used. The fire seemed to get smaller along with the yarn too. Her hands lulled me into a trance. I felt myself drawn to the yarn. It pulled me in like the tide. Something in me wanted to touch it. As I reached out she gently pushed my hand away. She smiled at me the way your mother used to smile at you when you did something ever so slightly wrong. She didn’t meet my eyes though. She didn't even deign to lift her head. She told me it wasn't quite my time. Her tone was becoming increasingly impatient but I knew she wouldn’t crack. I felt dread creep into my bones. I wanted to be pulled in with the yarn and fire. I begged and pleaded. I insisted it was my time. But all she did was smile. She told me it wasn't my time. It was then that she finally looked up at me. Her eye was cold and grey. It swirled like the grey tide in the painting behind her. This time when she spoke to me, all warmth had left her voice and her voice sounded different. It sounded distant and she spoke in words I haven’t heard since we were kids. That was so long ago, nobody should remember those words anymore. But she did. Her voice was layered in threes as she told me that impatience would leave me with nothing to gain.
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It was then that her hands stopped dancing for the first time since I arrived. She produced a pair of long deadly sharp scissors from I don't know where. Then she cut the thread. I felt a part of the world disappear. I heard a distant scream and it was as if there was one less string in the tapestry of the world. I begged and pleaded for her to right the wrong. She smiled sadly and told me she could not. She didn’t know why she had to knit only to cut the thread at the end. Only that she must. She knew I missed you but this is the way things had to be. I blinked and she was gone. The rocking chair still moved with the ghost of her presence. I looked everywhere, Joe. I promise I did. I don't remember falling asleep but when I woke up the night’s spell had broken. I was still on the bathroom floor. There was a toad sitting on my chest like it was waiting for me to wake up. It hopped through the hole in my window and left. It was then I noticed a golden thread suspended in the middle of the hole. It glowed with the sun and was warm to the touch. There was a knot in the middle where it had been cut in half and tied back together. That day was long ago. I braided the thread into a ring and I’ve worn it every day since. Love, Your once and always forgetful, Beatrice
Torn mia mccrery '22 12
estelle maris
Peace
It is you I love, you alone and no one else. You haunted me like the da pacem; A true adoration. For months you endured without me, While I sought to be invisible to you; To overlook you at every party. You were everywhere, waiting for me, Wondering if I would come around. Still the willows hung themselves for us; Every soul heard their weeping And all the hearts were broken. We didn’t know how lost we were. The time came for me to slip away, But you passed me in the hallway The night of the hunter’s moon.
You spoke your peace, “It was so good to see you.” Those seven seconds took me back To our first time meeting each other. Instantly I realised your gentle soul And I missed you more than ever before. The letter was two pages; You called it a keeper So we sat and talked for hours, Reliving our best moments. Our stash, the notes, the art, “I’ll frame it,” I said. A 300 B.C. handshake, The kind only we know. And you held me there
Bushel of Flowers
kamryn benson '25
13
14
adrianna corry '24
infatuation
Kali and Fergie
lola nakashima-brooke '24 There’s a hole in the ground where we buried my dogs. We had a tree over it, I think it was an oak And there were tulips two feet away yellow as the sun I think. I moved five years ago To a house by the river. I can only remember the old house in spring. My dead dogs in the ground And all the times I scraped my knobby knees riding my bike We still have dogs. One of them is old enough to remember the old house I don’t know if we’ll bury them here. But we buried two back there. I remember being so scared when Kali’s ashes Arrived from the vet. The box looked like takeout. I thought it was takeout. I thought it’d be a pound of flesh inside, Like the chicken breasts you’d buy in the store, With the tight plastic that you’d tap so it’d leave a mark. Their graves we marked with concrete slabs They came in DIY kits. You could put little plastic flowers in. We took the gravestones when we moved. If I look down out my window I see them in the mulch.
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I don’t think Kali and Fergie’s ashes are still there Under the tree with the tulips and weeds. Either dirt and sand or winter and water Or years of kids walking over them with light-up sneakers Have scattered them. Or by now, they’ve dug deep down And they’re stuck to the roots of the tree itself. Maybe they are the tree now, blooming in spring. Maybe my dogs are alive.
Growing Together makenzie johnson '24
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Aloe
carley tomlinson '23
17
The Nightmare oliver klipsch '22
I woke up in a place reeking of flesh ‘Twas a fright which chilled my bones despite the heat About me was a mist of rich bloodred, The air vibrating with the sounds of screams The sky was broken by a massive stone Alone, around I looked for shelter; nay! I heard a booming voice in spiteful tone, “All ye damned to this place must remain!” A tree-like figure gnarled and wretched rose Dripping with saplike blood, ‘fore me it grinned As it advanced I feared my death was close; My own screams matched the all-surrounding din. But, lo! Soon I woke up and breathed a sigh Friend - never fall asleep with an angry mind.
Focus
mia mccrery '22 18
The Plug Mug
morgan ferris '23
19
A land of romantic felicity within my own dismal landscape Paintings of interminable grotesques dance creating artistic sin The terror out of blank walls and their impertinance to my own sanity Pictures of bliss destroy themselves in unheard contradictions Shreds of thoughts gnawed, gouged and splintered Residual tatters loll like a broken neck The ghostliness of ribbons of pitiful fancies I am left to mend the eviscerated paintings of endless convolutions Revolting images mar my mind The everlasting task at hand a comparative burden Yet I lie at ease after my masterful cleanse I reap the benefits of labor with a moment of peace Calm, blissful, peaceful, serene A temporary paradise of my own artistry
Overwhelmed
brooklyn caulkins '25
Paradise of Misery rhiannon gomez '22
20
My Heart and Home sophie pepper '23
The morning of that gloomy dreary day the midnight sky was black and dark like coal. The branches of the forest like a doorway an opening to my mind and soul.
I walk into the forest proud and ready My fears and worries disappear into the darkness of the forest, I feel steady. Beyond the trees lies something grand and new.
Adventure’s calling, trees are talking loud. I long to discover a world unlike the world I live in now, so so profound. My mind and soul and forest all alike.
I love this forest, I am free to roam. These roots and branches are my heart and home.
I walk into the forest proud and ready My fears and worries disappear into the darkness of the forest, I feel steady. Beyond the trees lies something grand and new. I love this forest, I am free to roam. These roots and branches are my heart and home.
Love Hurts
gabrielle smith '24
Love Hurts
21
gabrielle smith '24
the beauty of nature gabrielle smith '24
22
From Dark to Light
keasia edwards '25
23
King of the Heights jack norton '23
I tell myself I am the king of the heights; Today I take my rule above the trees. I still do yearn to see the Northern Lights. I climb atop my noble throne at nights, To take the sights and feel the faded breeze. I tell myself I am the king of the heights. But I can’t go more than three foreboding flights, Unless I wish upon myself to freeze. I still do yearn to see the northern lights. Despite my reach not exceeding faulty kites, My movements hindered by sick and feeble knees; I tell myself I am the king of the heights. And every day a battle raging on, My parents nearby lending a hand to squeeze. I still do yearn to see the northern lights. My days are numbered now and what unites Me with the roots is but a simple “please.” I told myself I was the king of the heights, And always yearned to see the Northern Lights.
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Touch
grace lane '23
What My Voice Can Do olivia maylone '23
“Small the void where voices speak, where my Words, opinions, thoughts, they grow older Grow green, here with misuse and times that lied My silence costs me but also sound - colder And colder, colder, the core of thine Exploited, used, abused, misconstrued? True. All true, all seen, all heard, all the time … But I have something you don’t: it is the who. The who, it’s the what, the what that is given Given to me by the roots, the branches Of survival sprouting, the weight driven I told myself, “strengthen, there are no mismatches.” To me, What happened had rhythm, had reason Look at me now, and you: only a healed lesion 25
Galaxy
morgan ferris '23
26
Dear Nature
jack norton '23 Oh dear nature, how you astound. Your interminable beauty, And the limits of grace unbound. What curious peculiarity. Oh dear nature, full of great elms and velvet meadows, And forested flesh undulating against the rising sun. Light dances through your splintered shadows, And all I’m left to do is chase and run. But your vicious thorns and inharmonious babble, Have left me gouged and confused. You skulk about and laugh like a mad jackal, While I loll in place, abused. Oh dear nature, you’ve led me to fatuity. In your arabesque doorway I stand, in my heart a new feeling of vacuity. 27
Healing Humanity's Cruelty
sarelle fredenburg '22
28
winter melody estelle maris
Je dors, mais mon cœur veille For your coming It listens for your beautiful melody That begs for a companion Here you are now, And you ask me to join you We play together, while only you know The champagne will run dry But you dare not tell me Rather, you wait around to care for me I give you my time only for the aged wine To turn sour, not sweet You have broken every promise to me Now say goodnight, but let me cry Alone in my distress, Enough tears to make me go blind So my eyes cannot see our precious roses fading From sangria to mourvèdre rosé Je dors, mais mon cœur se brise Hearing a new, sombre melody The violins have lost their accompanist And now the symphony cries alone Your compositions will forever be The soundtrack to all my dreams And perhaps mine to yours too, Else I’ll never love again
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Sounds of Beauty keasia edwards '25
30
Divergent Insurrection olivia maylone '23
My actions and movements seemed to be that of a lack of sequence and defiance of law. I moved through subdued, quiet forests and traveled through winding roads. Trying to obtain a fortunate escape from mere ordinary people, an independence long yearned for. Gnarley trees reach out in the hopes of a long embrace, but I refuse for they cultivate deceit. My body levitates as my soul rises very gently and slowly, resistance infuriates me with power. I have never been so above the white noise, so indifferent to the isolated columns of fatuity. If freedom were the wind and drive the flowers, I was enveloped in bouquets and pushed in florid arabesques by the strong breath of the earth. This wasn’t a dream or illusion; I finally rose above those pretty old-fashioned ideals. I finally leapt away from my formatted future and my long prepared-for casket. I used to dive into the headlong plunges of equal distraction, I used it as a throng to fog the truth. Now stern, reproachful looks are the path my eyes take as I look upon civilization. They were my roots, but I now am the branches that strain to find those who seek, For those who seek what I have found. Tiresome and perplexing was my journey of thought. My journey to freedom, as free as the phoenix that lies on my outstretched limb. I have grown out of gravity and made defiance, created rebellion, invented revolt.
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Behind the Mask megan crews '22
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Spiraling
mia mccrery '22 33
Good Night
takiya jackson '23 The lurid night awaits me as I lie in my bed These interminable, infuriating thoughts won’t get out of my head. These thoughts grow and creep like the roots from a tree, They won’t stop, they grow faster, they will not leave me. These thoughts conscientiously make me overthink everything. It misconstrued my mind’s thoughts of me, It tells me I’m not worthy, I’m a constant irritant, and that I shouldn’t be me. I wonder when these overbearing and overwhelming feelings will turn into felicity. When I won’t have this derision of myself or feel like I am a fatuity. A time when these dreadfully depressing thoughts will stop taking over me. When my mind can find quiet and peace, when my mind can see the optic horror that these thoughts have caused me. As I look outside my window at the spring trees, I think to myself, how the branches were once bare, but now have leaves. Which is how I want to be; full again without the skulking thoughts emptying me And then, maybe I can finally fall asleep.
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rebekah kalmbach '23
Whatever Happened to Fairytales?
Alice was seized down the rabbit hole, Roots and branches tangling around her feet She saw their sprawling outlines drag her down, Sickly twisting in a vicious, grotesque way Alice was swallowed by the everlastingness Forever tumbling in the glorious misfortune of it all She misconstrued that she would reach the bottom soon And went on falling, betrayed by her own curiosity Wendy followed the haunting silhouettes and shadows Blinded by the romantic felicity of shimmering pixie dust That scattered across her hair like glittering stars As she crept on the window to look for Neverland Wendy saw shades of yellow and sunshine galore The gentlest voice beckoned her closer to the edge The shadow promised her velvet meadows and crystalline skies So Wendy stepped off the ledge and believed she was soaring Dorothy was proclaimed to be out of her mind Rambling of cloud shadows and over the rainbows They found her state to be dreadfully depressing So they locked the door and left her with barred windows Alone with her thoughts she saw the strangled heads Of the lion, the tinman, and her good friend the scarecrow She watched in horror as her skin turned sickly sulfur, vicious green She screamed and she screamed but no one heard a thing 35
Book of Dragons
grace lane '23
36
Yahiko
bryce powell '22
37
The Loop
lola nakashima-brooke '24 Does history repeat itself? Do the flowers that grow after massacres, Black-eyed Susans sprouting up from dead men's skulls Carry pollen made of their thoughts? Are these our ancestors' thoughts or ours? Is the world on loop, Is the blood of soldiers, veins of the Earth Going through the cycles of death and war To keep it alive? I had a dream once about a snake biting its own tail The cycle cannot be broken The roots of a tree run deep and so does hatred. Have the Fates just woven our stories In the same patterns for years? Threads they cut get woven into your life The story of your mother and your grandmother Will someday be yours. The threads the Fates weave are the same. Is the fault in ourselves Or has all the death All the boys sent to their deaths Poisoned the Earth 38
Voicemails
natalie burmeister '24 “Hey, sorry I missed your call, if you can leave your number and I’ll get back to you later.” BEEP “Hey mom, how's the training going? You sounded excited for it, so is it living up to your expectations? Me and Brianna are going to the mall later today to hang out. Mostly because Terry has to go into work. I miss you! Give me a call back later. I love you.” “Hey, is everything okay? Uncle Ryan called asking about you, saying you're not picking up your phone. Is everything okay? Give me a call back when you can. I love you.” “Mom? Please answer. Please tell me this is some sick joke you thought would be funny. You’re not actually in the hospital. Terry is taking me home. I miss you.” “Why? Why you? Why couldn’t I have been there? I could have saved you. I don't want to be here. They’re burying you. I don't want to let you go. Why? I don't want to let you go mom. Please. I miss you too much.” “I quit band. It makes me think of you. Everytime I touch the case, the instrument, it all reminds me of you. I might sell my piano. I dont think I can ever play it again, I also quit writing. I can't stop thinking about the image of your ghostly pale face. It makes me want to throw up thinking about it.” 39
“Please come back. It's almost been a year. I’m fifteen now. I’ve noticed my sleep schedule is messed up. Everytime I close my eyes, all I think about is you. Are you doing okay? Are you still even there, or have you passed on? I miss you so much. I’m sorry I never got the chance to say I love you before everything.” “Hey, I miss you. I found this group of youtubers. They help me, alot. I think you would like them. They make me laugh, which I’ve started doing again. An actual laugh, not one of those fake, forced laughs. I think it's slowly getting better. I’ve started getting more sleep as well.” “I couldn’t sleep last night. I remember the promise we made. You said we could go visit the Delta’s. We could stay there for the weekend and have the time of our lives. I’ll still go. When I’m older of course. But I’ll still go. I’ll do the things you never could. Like travel the world. I promise. I love you mom. I love you.” “I’ve started writing again. I’m getting better. Aunt Rachel got me a therapist. She’s been helping a lot. It doesn't hurt as much. But I think it will always hurt, no matter how much I want to forget it's there. It’ll always be there. A numb sort of feeling. Me and dad don't talk anymore, though he did show up to Grandma’s Christmas Eve get together. It sucked. I wish you were there instead of him. I love you mom. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I miss you. I’ll visit your site soon.”
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untitled
mia mccrery '22
41
Singling Out
kamryn benson '25
42
Growth
grace o'melia '23 A blossoming, blooming, everlasting world is in the palm of our hands. A world that is such a romantic felicity but still has a vicious influence. Everything in it has a living soul. From the velvet meadows to the wallowing seaweed and the glamorous flowers, the beautiful ones like buttercups and the roots and branches of the trees all sprout and bloom in season in sprawling and flamboyant patterns. It’s funny how I watch in astonishment as the living growth of our planet flourishes, right across my path by the wall in that vast of nature. The growth of the world is very vital and it secures the ancestral halls for summer. But over time the growth becomes very tiresome and perplexing as all things do when the time comes for their end. The fancy radiation of this glorious planet will conclude and fade by the slowturning sunlight of the cold winter hours. As the first twinkling lights of warmth and happiness break through the coldness of the old seasons, that glorious growth will come back very gently and slowly until eventually it has been restored to a delicious garden. This eternal and everlasting growth throughout the world will never cease to exist in this life and the next. 43