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konono
Elegies KWAJALEIN JUNIOR SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL 2022-2023
VOL 1
Kōnono, a Marshallese word, means to express opinions, thoughts, and voices. It’s a strong way to speak your mind. We take pride in our island's diversity and wish to share that with you through our art and writing. We’ve built our foundations on a sea of voices, the emotions and opinions of our fellow peers (so the foundations may be a bit wobbly. Where else were we supposed to build?) and hope to share their deepest thoughts and contemplations. This is our goal for the students of KJSHS. We may be a small school but our words are powerful. Our creative arts magazine has a mixed-grade student-run editorial team made out of the Creative Writing class. Our imaginations are boundless (we hope).
Credits Editors Aidan Aboud Teela Biehn Dominick Garcia Yamila Johnson Lana Kabua Taylor Soukup
Faculty Advisor Whitney Sorensen
Publication design by the editors Cover photograph by Aidan Aboud Back cover photograph by Teela Biehn
A publication of Kwajalein Junior Senior High School Kwajalein, Republic of the Marshall Islands Volume 1 funded in part by the NCTE ELATE 2022 James Moffett Memorial Award
kōnonomag.com
A letter from our editors Welcome to Kōnono, Kwajalein Junior Senior High School’s literary magazine! This is our first ever issue, and a momentous occasion for all those who worked hard to get a spot in the print edition. All of the submissions we received for the magazine were fantastic – you all made our job as editors difficult. We truly appreciate all who made a contribution to the lit mag – without KJSHS’s students we wouldn’t even have the privilege of sharing this magazine with you. We'd firstly like to thank everyone who submitted their work for this. It was a hard task choosing which pieces to go in, but we did it. We're proud of you all for not being scared to put your work out for others to appreciate. We'd next like to thank each other. Each of us are different individuals who were complete strangers at first. We've gotten over whatever fears we had and now look at us, making the first literary magazine of the school! We truly are a great group of kids. We saved the most honorable mention and thank you for last, because you know, save the best for last! Mrs. Sorensen, you're a teacher and that’s like a challenge in itself, but not only are you a high school teacher, you’re one of the best. You brought us all together, came up with the idea for a literary magazine for the school, and lead and help us daily. We are so unconditionally grateful for you! You might’ve noticed the theme for this volume– Elegies. The definition of an elegy is a poem of serious reflection, typically a lament for the dead. While formatting this lit mag we noticed a pattern through almost all of the pieces of work: they’re not all necessarily sad or about death but they’re reflections. Reflections on the writer's lives and the ones they’ve gotten to know. After voting (we almost had a tie!), we decided elegies was the one, best word to describe all the pieces. We’ve had such an interesting year. It’s been funny having only six people because when it comes to voting and making decisions we were often caught in a tie. To break these we’ve had Mrs. Sorensen vote, and even one time went around the school asking teachers to vote (that’s how we got the title!). This class has been so interesting and fun. We hope you all enjoy Kōnono’s very first edition and can’t wait to see where this goes.
Contents Poetry Islands Drowning, Bokean Jeanette Reimers, 1 Because I'm a Woman, Lana Kabua, 3 The Good Old Days, Avery Acosta, 5 Rain, Teela Biehn, 7 Untitled, Taylor Soukup, 15 Hawk, Aidan Aboud, 16 Deep Dark, Dominick Garcia, 18 Hollow, Anonymous, 20 Obeisance, Aidan Aboud, 21 A Poem, Yamila Johnson, 23 Grammar, Teela Biehn, 25 No in between, Anonymous, 26 i bring myself before him, Meagan Hensley, 31 11:11, David Smith, 32 Prose The Glasses of Sun, Taylor Aboud, 9 The Road, Cherish Corder, 11 Contrition, Aidan Aboud, 13 Easter Night, Jonielle Tagoilelagi, 27
Visual Art Untitled, Audrey Wyatt, 2 Marshallese Legend Box, Erenty Jacob, 4 Chimera, Kendal Warren, 6 Majora's Mask, Ethan Acosta, 8 Pizza Face, Andrew Strong, 12 Cat Goddess, Kendal Warren, 17 Ocean Currents, Emmalee Waite, 19 Grecian Urn, Meagan Hensley, 22 Untitled, Janet Lang, 24
Islands Drowning Bokean Jeanette Reimers
Islands drowning trying to reach for air People just like animals migrating, it's not fair Chestnut colored coral collapse Time might seem slow, but it's really a time lapse Rising 0.14 inches today, another 0.14 inches another day How many more days do we have? Animals, humans, homes waiting for their time to go Slowly washing away every piece of hope Every piece of culture lost within the currents of the waves What can we do to help cease this today?
Poem | 1
Audrey Wyatt Acrylic on Canvas
Visual Art | 2
Untitled
Because I'm a Woman Lana Kabua
Because I'm a Woman I must wear skirts below my knees, put my hair up or I'll be hexed
But all in all, I am forever proud of The blue, white, orange flag that has shaped me into the Woman I am today
Because I'm a Woman curfew is at 7, time for me to cook the rice, sweep and mop, and bathe my little brother
My culture is what made me Know my own language Know my manners Know who I truly am And where I am from...
Because I'm a Woman I am jaje manit for stepping over boys Showing my shoulders or changing my gender to another I am human Just like every other Man in this world, Why can't I be Treated the same way?
Poem | 3
I wanna be the girl who Wears shorts when playing sports The girl who can joke Around with her brothers The girl who wants to admire Her beautiful long hair and ... The oldest daughter who Needs help around the house
The Marshall Islands, Where colorful woven Earrings Wreaths Flowers And so many more, Are what makes me The beautiful Marshallese woman Where going to Church is a must, To learn God's words And to have faith During rough and Smooth paths No matter what And where family Is very important The unconditional Love <3 is undescribable.
Erenty Jacob Ceramic
Visual Art | 4
Marshallese Legend Box
The Good Old Days Avery Acosta
There once was a place that was conquered by time Where dreams would come true and life was just fine
We had Sunday night dinners Played games until midnight Sang songs from the 80's Sat by the firelight
Where the pressures of the world hadn't met our hearts yet and our only concern was not to break our neck
We would go to the mountain The beach and the dunes We would swim in the reservoir All afternoon
Where our days were filled with dragons and gnomes and we ruled kingdoms in our backyards we would roam We climbed trees tall as skyscrapers and in our pools were submarines we were race car drivers we were canoeing down streams
Poem | 5
We watched shooting stars outside our backyard tent Didn't know how much this all really had meant We sold lemonade on the side of the road we roller bladed even after it snowed
We would travel the world Go far and wide See things before 12 Others wouldn't in a lifetime We loved every second We were good kids you see Very grateful for everything Our parents let us be This place was called childhood It once was our friend But time had decided It needed to end.
Kendal Warren Ceramic
Visual Art | 6
Chimera
Rain
Teela Biehn
If the grass is green, why do I feel blue? If the sun is shining in bright hues of yellow, why does the world seem grey? If I'm happy and full of joy why oh why must the sky rain. I'm told rainbows only shine from the darkness but all I see are clouds gathering water which will lead to more rain. My therapist says I'm unhappy, I'm not unhappy but rather tired. Tired of blue skies and green grass and the feeling of joy in the midst of the rain. Why is it that when the birds chirp my teeth clench? Why is it that when you tell me you love me I gag and wish for the rain? Why must my life be so beautiful? Why must life be so dull.
Poem | 7
Ethan Acosta
Acrylic and cardboard on plaster
Visual Art | 8
Majora's Mask
Glasses of Sun Taylor Aboud
It was a summer evening, on one of those late August afternoons, I was ready for bed for I was only 2 years of age. My Father, a native of the lands Down Under, had exited the house without his fabled glasses - ones of the sun variety. As he reached to put them on I tried to warn him, but it was too late. All could see the pain in his eyes as he realized his grave mistake, and as he fell to the ground I rushed to his side. With the voice of a dying king he told me of the power of the glasses and how someday, if I did retrieve them, they would be mine. Of course, my Uncle (also Australian) looked down on the great king and swore I would never be able to succeed in my quest, but I would not be swayed from my path. Once I had entered the house, there was no turning back. The lands of this great kingdom were vast and treacherous, with great mountains and plains, we were on our way now. After traveling for 2 days across the plains, we came to the desert. A very dark place like nothing you have experienced before, as we entered the towering lego trees seemed to loom over us with a foreboding look, even with their scattered placing, they seemed to trap us. We traveled up the path, but we came to a block, a pack of ferocious wolves were in our way. At first I tried to communicate with the leader, “Good Sir, I wish no harm upon you and your people and request safe passage through this forest.” His response was slightly jumbled but I believe I got the gist of it, “Hamrolds ams Is. Wahts yuos brengs us humsan, ns excghangi for saafes passaghes?” Good Lord, this grammar is not pretty, what else would you expect from a wolf named Harold? I’m not sure what he’s asking. As not to insult the King, I decided to offer him something of great wealth, “King Harold, I bestow upon you a portion of my great Kingdom, the most beautiful in the lands, in exchange for safe passage.” The King accepted my offer and invited me to his castle, but once I saw the room they had made for me, I knew I should probably keep going, so that's what I did.
Prose | 9
After getting through some particularly thick mud spots that weirdly tasted like chocolate cake, we made it to Mount Bedicus. A climb to the top is a journey for someone with great bravery - easy. The climb back down is sure to provide an early grave. Honestly, I was scared. I had already almost died at the hands of the Wolves, been swallowed by the mud pits, and now I stand before this great figure. I knew going onward would be dangerous and possibly deadly, but I knew the King was relying on me to uphold his honor. As I marched forward I pulled out my climbing spikes, in hopes they would help.
The wind was like a whip against my face, halfway up the mountain and halfway frozen I was just barely making progress. As I climbed higher and higher all I could think about was my King and the nay-sayer, I knew failing would have grave consequences, but the doubt was still getting to me. I slipped. ahHHHhHHHhhHHHh! ……….. I was in heaven, floating to the clouds, here I come. I look down. OH MY GOSH I’M ON A BIRD. 15000 feet in the air I was riding a giant bird. As we reached the top I saw the glasses of sun. I stepped off Henry (yeah, turns out birds are better at talking than wolves). They were as magnificent as the King had said, though I realized we didn’t have much time left, so in exchange for a ride back to the castle I offered Henry the position of head Financial Officer (I can’t believe he had been driving taxis up in the mountains when he had a degree in Finance). Finally, my time had come. I thanked Henry for the ride and went into the castle, all the guards stood out of my way, for they knew of my mission. It looked like Harold and his subjects had been spreading stories of my mission, though if any of them are factual, I am not sure. I knocked on the King’s door, I could hear a frail voice beckoning so I entered. With all my strength I placed the glowing glasses unto my King’s eyes, ones like shining emeralds. I had done it, my legacy secured, my throne secured. As he smiled at me I felt all the doubt leave me (take that Uncle). I had not realized until that moment that as long as I worked for it and gave it my all, I would be able to achieve greatness. I di- … zzzzzzzzzzzz.
Prose | 10
I believe many of you will agree with me that imagination is something beautiful. Even a “quest” as simple as finding a pair of sunglasses can be seen as a long and dangerous journey to anyone with an imagination, especially at an age where anything seems possible and so many ideas and concepts are still foreign to you. Although I can’t deny any of these occurrences or support them with substantial evidence (except for the part where I brought the sunglasses back), I can tell you that the mind is a very powerful tool. A tool that can create its own worlds, make its own enemies and friends , and change the lives of billions of people. If you have not taken anything from this story, just take this: all of history’s greatest discoveries started with someone imagining that it was possible.
The Road Visual Art | 11
Cherish Corder, director/producer/videography/makeup with appearances by Mia Wase, Myles Sylvester, Matai McCollum, & Caedmon Rios Film
Untitled Taylor Soukup
It’s not my fault. I should not suffer the consequences, Your consequences. I should not have to be the Gold from your Midas touch Just because they weren’t. Red string tied so tight to my wrists it Cuts Into my skin, Into my bones, Fibres laced with thorns and your will And despite your honeyed words you seem unconcerned with the fact That you’re the blade buried in my flesh. While I think in paint, you think in graphite. So neat and controlled your grey and Correct thoughts are. So wild and careless my colorful and Evidently incorrect thoughts are. Yet you still promise you understand me.
Poem | 12
Contrition Aidan Aboud
A man sat alone on a hill, under a quaking aspen, groaning from the weight of his skin. With his back to the tree, he was able to rest from the weight of his folds, but even as he rested, sweat dripped down the side of his face, and soaked his clothes. His wrinkles were filled with fat, and large after their many years of existence, created by an inescapable habit that he had developed at a much younger age. But after all of those years, he was dying. “Why did I lie?” He spoke to the air, begging it to respond. “All those years ago, when the devil sat on my shoulder, why did I give in?” Tears dripped from his eyes, joining with his sweat. “Am I to die here? Is this to be my final resting place, where everyone who passes by takes one glance and knows my whole?” He shook as he lifted his arm, weakly pointing at the sky. “You put me here! In this chalice of life, I, with reckless abandon, chose death.” He breathed heavily for a moment. “Take me back! Please! You know I cannot admit it. There is no one around to speak to.” The clouds above him continued to move, unabated, as the sun slowly came to its peak, and the heat of the day poured down on the man. Shaking, moving to escape the burning rays of the sun, he pulled his legs under him and made to stand, but, unable to gain a hold on the curved trunk of the Aspen tree, fell, rolling down the hill. His shirt, ripped and stained, showed his skin, cut and raw, through its gaps, almost looking as if it were trying to separate itself from the man’s body. He smiled and frowned in quick succession, a crazy, heat driven light flaring in his eyes. The sun burned his flabby folds and blistered his skin, as he lay there, in silent agony.
Prose | 13
A chuckle escaped his red lips, joining the sweat and tears that continued to soak his clothes. “My, my, my, what have we here?” He examined the grass, grasping at the dull blades. “It's so green, so vivid.” He returned his attention to the sky. “What are you trying to say!” His words were a harsh, guttural scream that exploded from his throat. “Why?! Why is anything at all?!” His face was red like a ripe tomato, burning in pain and desperation. “If I am here, and you are there, what stops you from saving me? Why is it so below you, to reach down, and help me up?” He once again pulled at the grass, ripping it from the ground. “If all life is precious, why don’t you stop me?!”
He again ripped at the grass, tearing it to shreds. He kicked at the ground near him, flailing his body in all directions, creating a small shower of dirt. He flailed continually, for nye a minute, until his anger ran out, and once more, he was alone. His tears returned, in an even greater flow, and his sweat, having saturated his clothes, coated the grass beneath him like a trail of mucus. He sobbed, feeling his pulse quicken and his heart race. His breath now came in gasps, quick and stilted, like the braying of a donkey, or the swing of a door in rain. He could feel the heat of the sun burning his flesh, and the scruple moisture his body now provided did nothing to ease his pain. Suddenly, through the red haze of his vision, he saw movement. A quick flash of color, and the flapping of wings. Hope rose in his chest, giving him the energy to roll himself over, and gain a glimpse of the sky. Against the deep blue, the source of his hope shone. A butterfly, red and white, hung suspended above his face. He grinned, smiling at the sky, and opened his mouth to speak.
Prose | 14
It was this moment that saved him. As the land around him fell silent, he spoke. He told the butterfly of his sins, his grievous sins, and the lies that held him back. He told it of everything he knew he had done, and more, and as he did so, the wrinkles and folds that burdened him seemed to melt away. The sun still burned, and the sky still lay above it all. But his pain was gone. It felt to him as if he were a new man. The folds had receded, and his skin looked as new. Once more he could move, and lift himself from the ground. And the butterfly, having listened to his speech, flew off, carried by the wind. He smiled, and stood, looking around. His grin grew in size, and he jumped freely, calling out to the sky. The sky, with its whispery voice, called back. It reached out to him with its wispy hands and the man skipped across the ground in a circle. Having forgotten the coat of sweat, he landed in it, skidded, slipped, and broke his neck.
Hawk Aidan Aboud
True is true, For you and me, Hanging two, In ecstasy, Bloody harbors bloody’s best, Nightly singing talons hide, High into their saintly nests, Where all but sin doth reside, For having slain the nightly beast, They return home to babes ary, With nothing but the greatest feast, For their babes, who doth not cry, For blood gave blood to make them live, Energy in purest form, Parents having all to give, Have given all to have them born. Some make fuss over means and end, And try to twist the open mind, But else our bodies would have rend, To forces who share the evil end, In kind.
Poem | 15
Kendal Warren Acrylic on plaster
Visual Art | 16
Cat Goddess
Visual Art | 17
Pizza Face Andrew Strong
Acrylic, cardboard, and felt on plaster
Deep Dark Dominick Garcia
A deep, everlasting depression like a dark, never-ending night It seems no dawn will break the spell Of sadness and of utter fright It slowly creeps in like a fog Covering our joy and our dreams Our ambitions and our spirit Are slowly fading streams The darkness slowly steals away Our hope, our love, our peace of mind And all the plans we had in life Are slowly left behind We search for hope and find none We look for something to believe in But nothing gives us the strength to go on We are so worn and thin We are lost within this sadness Our souls so dead and numb We are stuck in this deep depression Forever, until our days are done.
Poem | 18
Visual Art | 19
Ocean Currents Emmalee Waite Acrylic on canvas
Hollow Anonymous Hollow, with no better words to describe it. Weightless, with bones of helium but weighted down by the mind Ask yourself this; Are you really sad if you cant cry? Or are you desensitized to misery after years, Years, of enduring it? The familiarity of unimportance, The comfort of discomfort. Truly, what is ones worth when one is so easily forgotten?
Poem | 20
Obeisance Aidan Aboud
You are beautiful, I just wish I could say it, I pay obeisance to your presence, And belay it, With my fumbling words, My jarring stare, My behavior, unsuitable, For the one standing there. You are the focus of my thoughts, Though they drift every which way, I pay obeisance to your person, And force them to decay, Into something else, A more suitable conversation, One which I have with others, For I cannot speak with you. Truly, I pay obeisance to your mind, By redirecting my stare,
To a more suitable person, One who may not mind my glare, Though you don’t look at me, I notice. You speak with others, When I’m around, Silence, in my direction, And for all I can think, Conversation remains stagnant, A simple, How are you? But I want to say more, Though I know not how, I feel, Disconnected, As if I bring unease, That I’m unwanted here, And so I pay obeisance to you, As I slowly disappear.
Poem | 21
Meagan Hensley Acrylic on plaster
Visual Art | 22
Grecian Urn
A poem Yamila Johnson
This is a poem, to break, your heart. I hope you're prepared. Two lovers, who could not be Wanted to live together Make memories, create a family. Unfortunately for them, There was no way As the world did not give Them the time of day Their families were moving away Making them cut contact and Never get to say Plenty of the things they wanted to And what they felt those very days They overestimated their time And had no time left They'd have to now mourn And never be They'd never have their family This was a poem to break your heart... Open. To never close it again Reminisce in the good times Take advantage of the time you have As you never know when it will end. Open your heart, until the very end. Poem | 23
Janet Lang
Acrylic on Canvas
Visual Art | 24
Untitled
Grammar Teela Biehn
Poem | 25
my first grade teacher said my writing was superb she said what I had was a gift and It was meant to be heard. my second grade teacher said I should be an author. my words were getting bigger and my sentences stronger so I wrote and I read and I formed and I sang and I had great ideas and creativity for days. My third grade teacher said my writing was good but my sentences ran on and my rhymes didn't work so I thought and I fixed, and I learned, and I grew to add periods, commas, and the different forms of “too.” My fifth grade teacher said I wrote like an angel but I didn't capitalize, and my spelling was painful so I studied, asked for help, read some books, tried my best. Capitalized proper nouns and memorized words for the tests. My eighth grade teacher said that I had some potential but a clear argument is more than essential. I turned work in proudly, high chin, and a grin but it came back circled with that stupid red pen. My creativity was gone and writing was no fun. I just did what I did to get the work done. I told myself I’d never write a story again. I feel so darn stupid I miss being 10. When I could write on for hours, tell stories for days. When there were no F’s, and there were no A’s. When my pencil hit the paper, I wasn't afraid. I was truly so confident of the work I had made. As I read this out now I trust you know I am using no commas or parentheses and this last line most certainly won't flow.
No in Between Anonymous
You think you know, but you have no idea Being a rimajol with lighter colored skin Having your whole family speak Marshallese and making you speak it but Making fun of your accent, your tone, your mistakes. Making you feel even less of your own culture Making you scared to try it again, to be made fun of You think you understand but you can’t
You haven’t seen the eyes locked on you, While walking through Ebeye or Majuro The whispers you hear under peoples breath, Ripelle, Ripelle Lale Ripelle e Making you question what you’ve learned Destroying the love you had for your home. Taking the last bit of confidence in you. Psychologists say the time to learn and truly understand a language is when you are young. But you aren’t young anymore The time frame has passed, you have to accept it
Be grateful that you can speak some, understand more That you are surrounded by a wonderful welcoming culture That you are at least half, but there is no in between.
Poem | 26
But how do you accept those who stripped it away from you You then start to despise those who taught you. But deep down you know it isn’t their fault.
Easter Night
Jonielle Tagoilelagi
April 17, 2022 Happily watching the little dancers as I was sitting in the back row, I felt the coolness of the Easter breeze and the sun rays coming through the window behind me, lightly kissing my skin, and giving me chills from the warmth. The church filled with plenty of people, giving the area a strong scent of sweat and different types of perfume and cologne. I sat left, next to Nei’mama and Remiha, my older sister. To the right side sat my step sister. We were all laughing and cheering at the little dancers. As they were finishing up, lining up to Jaba, people started to join too. I got up and followed behind Nei’mama as I was holding my baby sister against the side of my waist. Walking from the back and pushing through a ton of people, trying to find my way to the front without losing sight of Nei’mama; I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see who it was; between two other people behind me, finding the music guy, Boken. He signaled something I couldn’t quite understand so I just signaled back ‘wait’. I turned to see where I was, suddenly finding myself up in front. I gave my jaba then quickly rushed to find La’Boken. My stomach was aching from how curious I was to hear what he was going to say. As I caught up to him, he said that someone was waiting for me outside. Me? Who? Nobody ever looks for me. This is weird. Now my whole body started to tremble. I didn't know why, but it made me nervous. I looked out the side door to find more people. I scanned the area to find a pair of eyes staring at me, like they were trying to pierce through me. I was startled, then I realized that the eyes belonged to a close friend of my dad. He gave me a look which meant that he needed to tell me something very important. Heading towards him, my heart was pounding like it was about to rip out of my chest. Every breath that I took seemed to be really short and was like they were being cut. Please don't be bad, please don’t be bad. I don’t want to be unhappy when today feels like a good day for me. He told me that my aunt, Sonia, needed me and my brother. He said that she needed both of us to head to the house together. I don’t really know how I was feeling. I had a bad feeling but on the other hand, it felt like I was overreacting. I looked for my brother and we headed straight to the house as quickly as we could. I snuck a peek at my brother to see how he was feeling, trying my best to not show a reaction but I couldn't. He saw how the confusion and horror on my face really hit me. I reached for the doorknob, as my arms trembled, I opened the door then peeked my head in. I saw Sonia on the couch. Her left hand was covering her face and the other held a phone. It seemed to look like she was on a phone call. As she heard us coming in but never looked up; all she said was for us to go sit next to her. I took a seat on the couch right next to her and my brother took a seat next to me. Finally, l ooking up and staring at us with drops of tears rolling down her cheeks, she said. “ I have some bad news”
I searched in her eyes, nothing came back in return. “Your dad has passed,” she said in a voice almost cracking but stable enough to come through. Tears come pouring out. Her voice was breaking. I have never seen Sonia cry. Never. It was almost impossible to believe that she was crying. There. Right next to me. I laughed. “You’re kidding right?” No response. “I know you’re joking.” A minute had passed and I couldn’t seem to process what she had said. Passed? Who? My dad? I don’t get it. So many questions started to flow through my mind. One by one. Then pairs. Next thing I realized, I wasn’t breathing. My heart was pumping very fast, but no air seemed to go in and out of my nose or mouth. There it was. My eyes started to water and my heart stinging with pain. I was sobbing so hard, every breath I took, hurt. I curled in my aunt’s arms, crying along with her for about what had seemed to be hours but was only for seconds. She tried comforting me but I had nothing on my mind except for leaving. My emotions were too much for me to handle so I stood up and just left; slamming the door behind me and leaving my brother there. I don’t know if I was sad, or even mad. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Today was supposed to be my day of happiness.
Prose | 28
I made my way back to the church trying to calm myself down. Stop crying. Stop crying. I kept talking to myself, preventing myself from sobbing; not even caring if people were staring at me down the streets. I made my way back to my house, storming up the stairs upon my porch in anger. I don’t know how or why but my reactions and emotions were all over the place just like a glass bottle shattering and you can only get a hold of the big pieces, but all the small pieces are everywhere. Unable to be seen nor touched. I reached for the door, realizing that my arms and hands kept trembling. Locked. Are you kidding me right now. I constantly pace back and forth trying to think properly and release my stress but it didn’t seem to work. My tears, getting bigger and bigger making my vision really blurry. I walk towards the chair across the other side of the porch to sit and try to catch my breath.
I kept replaying the scene in my head over and over again trying to convince myself that I was hallucinating and that nothing just happened. Taking deep breaths and wiping away my tears every millisecond thinking that it would help but it didn’t. I sobbed even more. People walked past my house, hearing my horrible cry, and didn’t even stop to see who was crying and why. March 14, 2018 “Okay, If you were to tell me how much pain you’re in, from one to ten, how would you rate your pain?” said the doctor holding up ten fingers to my face as I laid on the patient bed. Without a word, I held up nine fingers. He looked me in the eyes with a pale expression. Nodded his head then wrote something down on a piece of paper attached to his clipboard. Though I was in so much pain, I knew it wasn’t a ten. So that’s why I gave him a nine. I looked down to my feet flashing back that memory and thought to myself, How much am I hurting now? Ten… This is my ten. Easter Night “ Leiya eh? Jinom ej kabit- Oh my gosh! Eitha? What happened? “ I was so distracted, I didn’t even realize that one of my friends, Holden had walked in. He sat next to me then stroked my back giving me a light hug. I cried even more. He asked and asked what had happened but I couldn't seem to talk. I wanted to, but nothing came out. I sat there with tons of thoughts going through my whole brain for a very long time. Long enough to get Holden tired of asking to the point that he left. Leaving me there all by myself. All alone. Crying. A few minutes later, my mom, brother, and oldest sister, Dolle, came to the house. By that time, I had calmed myself down but my eyes were swollen. I looked at my brother and he looked and acted like nothing had happened. Cold-hearted beast. My mom looked at me and said nothing. She walked straight into the house. I don’t know if she’s mad or just moody but I had a feeling that something was off. Does she know? I was finally able to get up on my feet and started to walk out of my house, not having a single thought of where to go, letting my body lead me to wherever. As I was wandering around, Memories flashed. December 25, 2010 “Merry Christmas lil’bwinjing!” Daddy lifted me up and wrapped me in his arms. “ Let's go see what Santa has left for you!”
January 01, 2011 “ 3…2…1… Happy New Years!!” Daddy said, lifting me up into the air. Kissing my cheeks and hugging me tight. “ I love you my lil’bwinjing.”
February 14, 2012 “Happy Valentine's day my love. Daddy loves you so much. Always and forever.” July 04, 2012 “My lil’princess. I don’t need any fireworks. You are my firework.” August 27, 2012 “Happy birthday to you” Daddy sings. “Happy birthday to you- Happy birthday my dear lil’princess. Happy birthday to you!” September 14, 2013 “ Don’t you worry my bwinjing, just because I’m leaving, doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I will love you forever and always. I promise to call you everyday." He hugged me and held me tightly for a long time, but it seemed like the shortest amount of time in my life. Next thing I know, he lets go, kisses my cheeks, takes his suitcase, and heads out the door. That was the last hug I’ve had from him. February 5, 2023 “......................” “I love you too, daddy. So very much” Till this day, I can’t forget what happened, when it happened, and how it happened.
Prose | 30
Time has passed and it has given me time to think that, even the ones we love are eventually going to leave us. Our character is what is really going to test us after their passing. It's like a common saying that states, ‘It is common to make mistakes, but what really matters is what you’re going to do after you make that mistake.’ So what I’ve decided to do is let this tragic moment lead me. Not hold on to me, but lead me to my future because I know that having a special moment, or something that happens to us, really shapes who we are and what we become. I wouldn’t say I’ve moved on or that I ever will, but I’ve controlled myself to accept that he isn’t here physically and what’s truly here are the memories I will cherish my whole life. The memories. Our memories.
i bring myself before him Meagan Hensley
I bring myself before him And I ask Why can't my skin be free of wrinkles Why can't I run the same Why can't I play with my children and grandchildren as I have years before Why can't I speak with such certainty as I did when I was a child Why can't I hear when people talk Why can't I lift books without feeling as if my body is falling I bring myself before him Our merciful God The one who has blessed us with Water to drink Shelter to have Food to eat Clothes to wear And safety to keep I ask him why we can't stay young forever Why my children and grandchildren must watch me fade away Why I must be force to watch as well
Poem | 31
I bring myself before him Our heavenly father And he reminds me Of the sacrifices he has made to grant us with the things we so dearly love And he reminds me We must make sacrifices too
I bring myself before him Our savior And he reminds me My skin is full of wrinkles for the years I have lived and loved My legs have weakened for the years I have ran and played My mind has lost its spark for the years I have thought and spoke and protected
My ears have slowly given out for the years I have listened and listened My body has put forth its effort for years and years It has given its best Protected me when I was alone Loved me when I had no one else to love me Held me when I had no one else to hold me And saved me when I felt as if I could not fight any longer My body has been a sacred temple Lent to me by God And it has fought for many years So now when I bring myself before him Our loving God And I have decided I will accept my fate My losses and gains For I have loved And been loved And that is enough for me
11:11
David Smith
11:11 By some paradox Our hands meet the same axis I fancy myself an eccentric You fashion yourself a bindle
11:11 The bonds of anomaly shatter Our clocks tick differently We find solace no longer In sister, in brother
11:11 You meet me where my Train of thought rendezvous Birds fly like time As we explore the tracks Trading war stories
11:11 We meet again You utter your pain Attempts to deafen Yourself to the ticking Bring ticking to cessation
11:11 You utter your history A clock that denies its hands the seconds Invoke the name: contagion You speak of warped clocks You gaze upon the mirror The Persistence of Memory I fault your eyes But harken to the ticking
11:11 It is 11:11 again Our hands on different axes My face far from yours But I am wishing you well
11:11 Your time is spent in a hospital Staring at a tangible clock I remind you every hour To make your wishes As I spend mine on you
Poem | 32
Bokean Jeanette Reimers Audrey Wyatt Lana Kabua Erenty Jacob Dominick Garcia Avery Acosta Kendal Warren Taylor Aboud Ethan Acosta Cherish Corder Aidan Aboud
Teela Biehn Andrew Strong Taylor Soukup Emmalee Waite Anonymous Meagan Hensley Yamila Johnson Janet Lang Anonymous David Smith Jonielle Tagoilelagi
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