Oracle Literary Magazine, Spring 2018

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Oracle Index Writing* Charles Rakaczky, ‘18: pg 3 Brianna Caridi, ‘18: pg 4, 12, 13 Davan Holler, ‘20: pg 6, 21 Kara Schaffnit, ‘18: pg 5, 11 Nathan Kirsch, ‘20: pg 17 Michael Caputo, ‘20: pg 17 Connor Adamski, ‘20: pg 17, 18 Justin Angle, ‘20: pg 18 Alexa Malloy, ‘20: pg 18 Ana Luisa Galante, ‘20: pg 18, 19 Alexander Fuchs, ‘20: pg 19 Evan Victor, ‘20: pg 19 Rosa Dugan, ‘20: pg 19, 20 Joel Skelley, ‘20: pg 20 Jared Kindle, ‘19: pg 20, 21 Logan Kohnfelder, ‘19: pg 21 Photography Danielle DiPaolo, ‘20: pg 2, 3, 8 (top) Wenting Chen, ‘18: pg 4, 5, 6, 8 (bottom), 10, 11, 13, 15, 22 (all), 23 (bottom) Ana Luisa Galante, ‘20: pg 23 (top)

*​Students also submitted anonymous poetry and writings. These submissions are listed on pages 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 14, 15, and 16.

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Students

by Charles Rakaczky

There was once a uniformed student, Who pressed and buttoned their clothes, They kept straight their head, Wore down their lead, But their heart no one bothered to know.

There’s a nervous student – heart racing, His hands wring, his knuckles are white, ‘Cause he feels his heart sink, As he begins to think, He’ll never talk to the girl in his sight.

There’s a flickering student sobbing, Struggling to coexist, With the rigid deadlines, Apathetic teen minds, And over weekends, never being missed.

There’s young people around me struggling, And I wonder how often they know, That the bitterness they’ve tasted, And the time that feels wasted, Are the byproducts we get when we grow.

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Do Not Daydream, Dandelion

by Brianna Caridi I know I should not be letting you hurt me But shielding myself from your silent breath Is far harder than I ever imagined.

You are saying things to me and They are sweet― They make me want to wear every kind thing you have ever said to me along my stem As if it were a second skin So that on the days when we are in the same room But I am far away in an open field Swaying gently in the wind I can look down and Find my intelligence or my beauty In the compliments that you have paid me And for a second, As I drift softly through the air I can pretend that my flower passes through your mind occasionally That you want to feel the veins of my leaves between your fingers But soon enough your breath is on me again And with each wisp of myself that you blow away I am praying to the rain that you are wishing for me But there is a place inside of me that never sees the sun And this place is not afraid to tell me that If I do not yield to the feet of passersby― I will break undoubtedly So from this place I also know that If you were wishing for me You would not waste all of your breath ensuring I vanish with the wind

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sinking

by Kara Schaffnit

if you want to we could see where this thing goes

your smile gets me when you crinkle your nose

I don’t mean to get all cliche about your eyes but when I look into them I’m hypnotized, cuz

who you are is enchanting what we could be is everything and nothing that we think that it all could be

baby, sink sink into us with me

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Sleepless nights

By Davan Holler

Hourglass sand drops drip drip.

Time has past, passing through my grip Endless night fades away Awake I lay in this darkened day Drip drip Another hour slips away Forced to stay awake Thoughts of thoughts, what they meant Through time that I have bent Time so slow watching the hourglass leak Sleep has left and for I must seek Life itself, what we are How are we to be this far Ponder, wait, lay there in silence Until the sand leaves the glass And all that is left is confusion and imbalance.

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Untitled

By Anonymous

I thought I already knew perfection In bright neon lighting Until your face Became a watercolor portrait With a spray of reddish pink Softly dancing on porcelain skin Right before my eyes You see that boy The one who once mirrored perfection In those neon lights Oh so long ago Cannot possibly compare To the masterpiece With the spray of reddish pink With eyes like a rainy spring afternoon That kind of rain you can taste Before it even falls He cannot compare to that To you Because he lacked depth And you are an unfinished epic His laugh was a whisper And yours is a roar And when my eyes met his I couldn't taste the rain Or hear violins Or see explosive fireworks on a hot July night I saw only a spark And with you I see a lightning bolt And that rain drips down my throat And those violins are accompanied by an entire symphony And blue and green and white fireworks explode in my chest Because you Are a masterpiece 7

With reddish pink neon lights as the paint And porcelain skin as the canvas And I wish I was the painter

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The Struggles of a Restless Heart

by Anonymous Emptiness and a restless heart walk hand in hand.

Like two lovers; They never dare leave each other.

Two lovers.

With secrets.

With ​longings.

Emotions that must be hidden.

Emotions that are only shown in dimly lit rooms.

Through the crack of an old wooden door, They are barely seen.

Emptiness desperately wants to be filled, But it will never tell the restless heart.

For telling the truth, Would mean becoming even emptier.

The restless heart wants to leave, To be free.

But that would mean leaving emptiness behind.

And what good is having freedom, Without someone to share it with?

Life, Cruelly sewing the two together like pieces of fabric.

Stuck, With thick, black cords instead of thread wrapping around their throats.

Fate, Gripping them tight with stained fingers and chipped nails.

In an endless vacuum of hallowed out emotions, They sat, Like china dolls on a shelf.

Sitting pretty for all to see, They feared that rough hands would pick them up, 9

And throw them into the world.

Unable to rewrite the fate that was made before the two could even talk, Before the two were even themselves, They waited, Like deer in headlights.

Dead in the eyes.

Dead in the dark.

Dead on that shelf.

No emotions.

Hidden.

Emotions.

Floating, In that dulling space of a vacuum, On that shelf.

Waiting to become what they are now: Two lovers That will never leave each other No matter how hard they try

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Vulnerability

by Anonymous Why do I feel this?

This unremarkable misery.

I should be happy Why can’t I be happy…

Why do I cry?

I know crying isn’t weakness…

But, god, vulnerability eats me alive.

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Divine Intervention

by Brianna Caridi

1 “only God knows how our story will end” You say this But I know you mean “goodbye.”

This hurts me because I know this is the end, but Your words force me to hang on the edge of the cliff Waiting for you to pull me up

​ 2 There was always water beneath me Since the first day I met you, There was water.

On the days when I felt my hands slipping I knew I could find your eyes and that the water was deep beneath me. sometimes there were waves and as they crashed they whispered “you are enough.”

​ 3 When you blinked, the water was gone.

I found myself deep below the surface The drowning was okay It was as if I was beside you again Hands absentmindedly close poised to brush against each other pretending as if we don’t know but we do

​ 4 I am swallowing water until much more than 60% of my body is made up of it I know I am dying 12

I know I am becoming pure earth I am only thinking that If God could make the waves Sound like your voice Maybe he will tell you to Come Find Me

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lies

by Anonymous

I still have your sweater the really big grey one with those holes for your thumbs

I can still remember your favorite song when it comes on, I feel numb

you still have my t-shirt the one that I left on that very first night

you pretend not to notice it laying on the ground when you turn on the light

and we lie to ourselves we tell ourselves that we've both moved on

we lie to ourselves.

does your mom still think we're together? she called the other day to ask how you are

you haven't called her in two months but me too, you haven't called so far

friends keep coming over and every time I get the hope it's you

they keep saying, “it's time to move on", 14

but that's not true

cos they lie to themselves they're convinced that we have to move on

they lie to themselves.

I still have your sweater, you know the one

you gave back my t-shirt but does she look at you like you're the sun?

i guess i lie to myself i tell myself you’re still the one

i lie to myself.

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Possibly

by Anonymous

You are quite possibly The most magnificent Person I’ve ever met

You are quite possibly The most lovely one That’s left an effect

You could be my Everything and I Could be yours

When I don’t see your smile For a while It makes me miss you more

Everything you do has me reelin Everything you say has my heart soarin Everything you do Drives me wild

So maybe quite possibly This one’s for you

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Pittsburgh

by Nathan Kirsch Steel worker, Factory worker, Train driver; Three rivers, bridges, railroads; Walking all over the city; Staring at the beautiful view on Mount Washington; Cheering on the Steelers, Penguins and Pirates; Snowing; Raining; Sunny.

Pittsburgh is still the most beautiful city in America.

The Forest

by Michael Caputo The trees surround me, With leaves and branches blowing.

Birds chirping, Bushes rustling, And the gentle wind covering my body, As if a soft quilt has cradled me.

The grass as smooth as cotton Is like a bed, Providing comfort As I sit in silence and tranquility.

Home

by Connor Adamski Home is more than just where I sleep.

It is more than where I do homework.

Home is more than where I eat.

It is more than where I go after school.

Home is more than where I put my things.

Home is where I bond with my family.

It is where I love my pets.

Home is where I spend my time.

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It is where I learn new things.

Home is where I truly live.

Game Day

by Justin Angle I’m in the locker room; our team is ready to zoom.

Equipment is on for there is a game to be won.

The music is playing; nervous, my body is shaking.

The game, just moments away, is the highlight of my day.

Butterflies in my stomach, I hope our team is ready.

Coaches go over our strategies; of course, we don’t want any penalties.

Last second thoughts race through my head; I’ll make it a game that I won’t dread.

Coach says it’s time to play. I want a win for my red and gray.

Now is my time. I got to go. See you after the game when I’m covered in snow.

The Volleyball Court

by Alexa Malloy From the hardwood flooring To the weaved net above it, The court is my happiest place to be.

I jump and run; I sweat and work hard.

I pass with great form.

I set with my hands.

I jump and hit the ball down.

I play games with my team.

We give everything we have to win.

My Home Inside My Dreams

by Ana Luisa Galante New York, though I visit you at times, you feel so distant.

The dreams that grow in you and the dreams that die.

I dream to one day be with you To make my dreams come true.

I want to explore what I have not done.

I want to watch shows, see sights, and meet new characters.

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Though you are distant, you are close in my heart.

My home away from home, and my home inside my dreams.

I hope one day to conquer them with you by my side, In the busy streets where dreams are made to grow and change, and life is made to be explored.

My Car Garage

by Alexander Fuchs The smell of rubber tires and tool cleaner The sound of the recycled oil heater The air powered tools spinning fast Watching as all the working cars drive past My hands may get extremely dirty every time I’m here But I will always love this place no matter the time of year The sound of the running engines Or the tow truck cable letting a car down and losing tension Trucks running so loud it sounds like an artillery barrage No matter what, I will always love it here in this car garage.

The Frozen Pond

by Evan Victor My second home When you walk in, you feel the cool air on your face.

You look out and see the ice calling you.

You rush to the locker room that smells like hard work.

Once on the ice you take that first lap.

You feel untouchable and you can’t help but smile.

Dumping the pucks, you hear them click when they hit the ice.

The nets are put into place, Then you take that first shot and hear the post ring.

You know you are home.

The Library

by Rosa Dugan Walking through the door you are hit with the familiar smell, Coffee brewing and books ranging from old to new, Venturing through aisles full of possibilities, 19

Books stacked and shelved always for new readers, Each one a series of words in just the right order, With the power to indulge and envelope you into a new world, An escape from reality with only your imagination.

You look around to see people just like you, People able to read and fall in love with characters and worlds That let themselves sink into the endless possibilities a book can offer Stone Harbor

by Joel Skelley Sunshine beating brightly, yet softly, upon the backs of all who greet her Bay air filling the noses of dirty fishermen as gulls fly above the salty marshes of the bay Gusts of wind blowing softly, yet unyielding, through the wispy trees where birds find a perch An ocean, not so blue, but colder and more refreshing than any other A people so excited that one small isle can scarce contain them as they burst with subtle joy Little shops opening and closing, opening and closing, earlier than in any larger town Across the bridge awaits joy, awaits an island of hope Where sunshine reigns eternal, where the bright light overcomes the darkness of any mind A quiet isle, a peaceful people, cool clean oceans with soft seashores – Stone Harbor.

The Place I Love

by Davan Holler This place is not the place everyone else sees But only me.

This place is in my dreams.

First it’s black And sometimes that is all it is.

Other times, there’s a world beyond our imaginations Fluffy white clouds and a blue clear sky Towers and castles that tower so high No one can hurt you and no one can die.

This is the place where fairy tales come alive.

The Bodies as they Burn

by Jared Kindle Why did it have to be me?

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The Germans, they said had to be, One with much strength, patience great length, And the will to get through these tough weeks.

All day the bodies I burn, The shifts, no one takes turn, This jobs for me only, without company, Every night, I can’t help but mourn.

Every morning the smell oh the smell, This is now my living hell, Yet even in this life, in amongst all the strife, God picks me up when I’ve fell Voices

by Logan Kohnfelder The things I did I regret But it’s not like I had any choices The way things were, were set It’s not like we had any voices All requirements were to be met There was no room for rejoices Even though I was the threat I still couldn’t make any noises

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The Oracle is a member of the Pennsylvania School Press Association and a charter school member of the Quill and Scroll High School Journalists' International Honors Society. Thank you to these organizations for taking us on.

We would like to thank all of the people who contributed to the Oracle’s second edition of the school year. We are grateful for your participation and submissions.

An extra thank you goes out to Sophia Charron yet again for creating our beautiful front cover!

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