Issuu

Pierian Spring 2021

Cover Art: Renaissance | Alex Williams ’21 | Digital In her Editor’s Note for this publication, EditorIn-Chief Alexandra Williams compares our continuing emergence from the Covid-19 crisis to the European Renaissance. Just as the Renaissance grew from a time of struggle and darkness, she reasons that we as a community are emerging from our own coronavirus-induced struggles. “We have been triumphant over adversity in this sense,” writes Williams. “Let the work that is emerging from you this moment in time be your Renaissance, your rebirth of creative and expressive thought.” Williams’ cover art inspires us to overcome the challenges of our time, grounded in our traditions while pursuing new ways of seeing, new ways of being, and new ways of leading as young women of faith pursuing excellence.

Pierian Spring Xavier College Preparatory Literary & Arts Magazine

Xavier College Preparatory 4710 N Fifth Street Phoenix, AZ 85012 (602) 277-3772

Editor’s Note “In spite of everything I shall rise again: I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in my great discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing” –Vincent van Gogh, 1880 “Renaissance” is a French word meaning “rebirth.” If you remember your history lessons, the European Renaissance of the 15th and 16th centuries was a revival of art, literature, music, philosophy, and culture overall following the darkness of the Middle Ages. One of the many plights of the “Dark Ages” was, of course, the Black Plague. Yet, European artists and writers began to emerge from this darkness teeming with a unique array of new creative work. It is here that we see how major events have an impact on our culture, particularly our art and literature. We see it when we look back on the timeline and we see it when we look upon ourselves now. The past year has been a fitful one, to say the least, from the abrupt move to online learning of last March, to the gradual transition back on campus, and everywhere in between. As the editor-in-chief of Pierian Spring this year, I had the honor of witnessing our collective morale over the past several months as we received and reviewed your art and writing submissions. I see your pain, frustration, hope, triumphs, and losses, which are felt by each of us in unique ways. However, the admiration I have for Xavier’s artists and writers is profound, especially this year. The COVID-19 pan demic and the changes that came with it have certainly put a damper on our everyday lives, including the ways we process and cope with our

emotions. Even if creative endeavors are your forte, major unfortunate changes like these can make it hard for even the most creative minds to pick up the pencil. Yet, for what I have seen of our community of artists and writers, we have been triumphant over adversity in this sense. Let the work that is emerging from you in this moment in time be your Renaissance, your rebirth of creative and expressive thought in the midst of turmoil. If you take anything away from this publication, I hope it is that your unique feelings and experiences are worth expressing and ultimately worth hearing. The legacy that historical writers and artists have left us with are ever-resounding snapshots of both history and personal attitudes. What is stopping you from joining this assemblage? With the complications that have come with the pandemic this year, running the club has been no easy feat, but rewarding even more so. Most of you will remember that Pierian Spring releases an annual publication at this time of year, yet you may have noticed the absence of a publication last year due to the unanticipated jump to distanced learning. Our astounding team of officers has been determined to make the show go on and has been hard at work making the publication happen this year nevertheless. I would especially like to thank our new moderator, Dr. Clayton Zuba, for keeping us afloat and keeping our spirits high and to Xavier’s talented artists and writers for contributing to the publication. You made it happen. Welcome back to Pierian Spring. –Alexandra Williams, ‘21 Editor-in-Chief

Table of Contents Contest winners are marked with a

31 | Amorphous • Annie Dawson ’23 Home • Maria Wolowiecki ’23 Untitled • Elena Soderstrom ’22 32 | Dreams • Arianna Thompson-Bueno ’23 Cyberspace • Waverly Bagley ’23 33 | She Really Liked Daisies • Kamley Braun ’21 35 | Untitled • Anna Kolbe ’22 37 | The Idea of Idealism • Arianne Duquella ’21 38 | Dalmatian • Arianna Thompson-Bueno ’23

ARIZONAN RAIN by Maia Weingard ’22

Waking up to sheer hues of light gray, Not a beam of light in the sky today. Tiny reflections that thinly lay. Pitter-patter, on the ground it splatters. All the drops, they scatter, Falling freely, just like joyful laughter. Teeny crisp drips of water, on your tongue, they sink. So clear and moist, Like a soothing dewdrop, icy and fresh, you drink. Chilly teardrops trickle along your face. Cupping your hands to catch from the clouds, all over the place, Plummeting at a long leisurely pace. The lovely sweet scent of creosote, Imbues the breeze so swiftly, it fills your throat, And bequeaths to you a pleasing note. Cactus | Tori Fitzgerald ’22

Cherry Blossom | Tori Fitzgerald ’22

Searching for Light Citlali Chimal ’21

Bliss | Elyse Hannoun ’21

Getaway

by Taylor Linaman ’23

The sun goes down and the moon starts to rise Soon the light pink sky will turn to all black I lay in bed and start to close my eyes As the world fades dreams all start to flood back Swirling colors float across my worn mind While enchanting pictures form memories All past problems I start to leave behind Sometimes time and sleep are best remedies Once again the dark night begins to fade And the sun comes up same as all mornings The sun shows lights as those my dreams conveyed And my alarm clock rings without warning As the moon begins to slow fade away I thank the world for my short getaway

Dawn and Dusk | Kelsey Luke ’23 | Digital

FINALE by Alex Scott ’21

In the dark of night I walked the streets And entered the hospital ward. I awoke one child from her sleep, For her soul I’d come to reap. Her curious eyes returned my stare As I offered her my hand. She gladly took it with no care, Too young to understand. We soared above the city lights And dove beneath the clouds. To reach my second stop tonight Where a car had recently plowed. The woman inside uttered a cry As I landed before her eyes. “Please Sir please, I don’t know why! I’m still too young to die!” I smiled to her and wiped her tears As I’d done to many over the years.a “I’m sorry dear, but you mustn’t fear. There is nothing left down here.”

Blurred Lights| Evelynn Papez ’23

Eventually, she joined the child And we walked on for a long while. Till a shabby cottage came into view. My final stop, I knew. Inside the tattered walls, a man Sat quietly in his chair. Many wrinkles adorned his frail hands And silver lined his hair. “Well, you sure took your time, my friend. I’ve waited all the while. For now we must tie up loose ends, With you I reconcile.” And together us four took to the sky. As we said our last goodbye. To those we left on the earth below, I know they’ll miss us so. I cannot say I love this task. Some even call it a crime. Yet it is one I must uphold, For all things run out of time.

Bleach

by Grace Nelson ‘23 She grasps a melting cone of cold ice cream The warm sun brushes on her round pink cheeks The people, excited with laughs and screams Seagulls inspect the snacks with amber beaks The soft sand as it slips between her toes With chipped nail polish, colored like coral With sun-painted freckles, dotting her nose She doesn’t go to the beach anymore Her pink cheeks are blistered, screams are too loud And it's not the cold shaking her to her core It’s fear, drenching her like rain from a cloud I wish I could wash that place off with bleach Whose fault is it for ruining the beach

Anna | Sophie Kolbe ’22 | Pen & Marker

The ones that go forgotten... by Maggie Dethlefsen ‘22 Disappear into oblivion Like the clouds that move on they too move on And though we may never see them again once you close your eyes they appear like the sun

Constantly Distracted | Ivy Song ’22 | Digital

Love Letter| Bella Longo ’22

Alabaster Lights | Bethany Barnwell ’21

Strings

by Cassara Ryan ’22 They bind us up with string And across the stage we dance Painted faces cover flaws For a single glance For hope that we would be set free Instead of moved by string Not zombies to the puppet king Who only dance and sing We are not made to entertain So break the strings you hold We are not dolls devoid of thought Or things you have to mold Although these strings have left me weak I cast them to the ground I will stand without the cruel control And step away from the crowd

A Covid-19 Christmas | Alex Scott ’21 | Mixed Media

FILLING IN THE CRACKS by Tara Kelly ’22

Concrete flows onto the sidewalk. Dew coats the grass in the early morning and shields the windows from the inauguration of a new generation. Concrete fills in handprints, names carved into a well-trodden path, years before. It takes with it the innocence of hopscotch games and the remnants of chalk masterpieces. The dew thaws And the window reveals a new sidewalk, Gone with the childhood now come to fruition And it ushers in a lifetime of possibility.

Classic | Elyse Hannoun ’21

INDUSTRY by Summer McCann ’23

The sun arises; the warmth radiates. Upon a still riverbank it glistens. Birds sing with no one around to listen. Through the rolling hills their song emanates. The scene is stunning in its untouched state. Its glory to all a vibrant vision. But businessmen are full of ambition, And from a meeting room comes a sad fate For the gorgeous land with the rolling hills. And soon bulldozers begin to intrude, As chaos in nature starts to ensue. The beauty ruined to pay someone’s bills. Now the bright sun is dulled by pollution, And the sweet birds’ song comes to conclusion.

Papa

by Madeline McKenzie ’22

The Patriarch of our family, Our greatest example. Your presence was like a flower in a field of weeds, So special and very well admired. Shaping your children and grandchildren to be great leaders in their life. One day your children will teach their descendants what you taught them. Your attitude is like honey that attracts bees. You truly were a servant of God impacting the many lives around you. I never thought I would have to think what life would be like without you in it. Holding together our family, I thought my life would fall apart. But faith is too strong, I believe we may meet again one day. If I didn’t already say it I will say it again, I love you.

Happy New Year by Sabrina Le ’22

Incense burns A girl stands in front of the altar Her mother whispers into her ear She stares at nameless faces of lost family Nam o a di da phat... It’s almost burnt out Ask for good health. Fortune. Joy. Time to bow: 1 2 3 What is next? Breakfast | Oil Paint Untitled| Scratchboard Anna Kolbe ’22

Childhood Treats | Alex Scott ’21 | Colored Pencil

Glass Still Life | Kamley Braun ’21 | Colored Pencil

Pardon

by Alejandra Salazar ‘22 I have taken for granted the gift of freedom The ability to express my thoughts and feelings Without suffering any of the consequences you would have Forgive me mother I have not thanked you for providing me with a better life than your own

Human Connection by Macarthy Mahoney ‘22 vibration in hand a like on a post comment of affirmation “huma n co nn ec tio n” the jostle of a crowd Voices? Voices shoulders collide apologetic mumble human connection? the crowd: eyes peering downward screen glowing upward unaware of the people h uma n c o n nec ti

one set of eyes looks ahead looks to others unmet by others others who are drawn in by the glow that set of eyvibration in hand h u m

Cyberspace | Bella Longo ’22

c nn

e c ti

The Little Girl and Me by Lauren Kort ’22

The little girl used to play with me night and day Until one day she stuffed me away “Boys will come over soon” she said “And they cannot see a bear on my bed!” So I didn’t protest my strict exile Since I saw how the boy would make her smile

Grace | Sophie Kolbe ’22 | Oil Pastel

Until he left her heart so shattered She brought me back out, I was all that mattered But then came high school, homework, stress Typical teen, her room was a mess So I found myself buried under a mound Of clothed and shoes wearing fifty pounds! Soon the little girl went from little to old And it was time for college, or so I was told Her mother came in to pack her things To choose which items she ought to bring She neared my mound and soon uncovered The pile of clothes with which I was smothered “Finally,” I thought, “after all these years” “Being held by her will move me to tears” As we locked eyes, I saw hers glimmer I saw the love bubble, then saw it simmer As she remembered all of her grown-up knowledge, Remembered that she was off to college “Give it to Goodwill,” I heard her say I’m too old for bears now anyway

CHAMPIONS IN OUR DREAMS by Jordan Herrera ‘21

We caressed the sweet reward of victory, Held it in our hands, Tasted it on our lips, The glinting gold hanging from our necks, Victory was ours, We were victors with unparalleled speed, Many looked on at us with greed, We smiled bright, Not knowing that these were the dreams in the night, Athletes know when the fear sets in, Grapples and throttles you as you struggle to win, You straddle the thin line of death, Insurmountable pain, For what in the end amounts to little gain, Athletes play this dangerous game, Sometimes injured and never the same, I’ve seen athletes strain, Push against their muscles and physical capabilities, Hence the power of dreams, You cannot power an engine without a source, An undeniable goal and unbeatable force, Sometimes we seem like victors with our incomparable vigor, The rigor of practice reaches its zenith, While other times we plateau, Looking for tomorrow even though we don’t know, We wish for the future, Look on with our heads held high, Desire to be showered in gold,

So we can be remembered, And our stories told, We never reached the summit, Our hopes they did plummet, Our ambitions and aspirations were tumble weeds in the desert, In our fantasy we had won, We had fun, And the sun had shone down on us, However, our dreams are not heard today, The cruelty of reality met dream, Or so it would seem, Even with our dream knocked down, We refuse to stay down, We’ve worked too hard to give up now, For now we’ll stay champions in our dreams.

Mayfield | Alex Williams ’21 | Digital

Woman

by Juliana Maschue ’22 The shallow power of a Woman. As good as a damaged boat. But despite what you might think she is mightier than the sea She can roar like the ocean and bring you down with just one wave In society, she is homeless torn down, and betrayed But she finally found a home in the waves that came.

Search History by Sabrina Le ’22

How to be successful? Be something How to live a good life? Do something What is something? Error. Not Found.

Dreams | Arianna Thompson-Bueno ’23 | Digital Checkmate | Waverly Bagley ’23 | Pencil

The Duel | Callie Guyer ’21 | Photography She Really Liked Daisies | Kamley Braun ’21 | Digital

THE FISHBOWL 34

by Olivia Lanning ’22

On a warm spring night, I found it in myself to return home and enter my room; It is there where I found my first heartbreak, My fish was dead on the floor. The fish that I took for granted. the life that I had cared for. But then I flushed it down the toilet, Almost as if its life had not mattered. That is how you got rid of me. Flushed me away after our union fell on the floor; Dried up, crying all alone, a relationship now of one. Driving alone home with the vision of you in my passenger seat. The blank highway, the big turn; The moon shining above telling me to turn back. I can’t seem to shake the feeling of how you held me; How you loved me, the feeling of your hands within mine. Outside of your house I see where we laughed; Joked, played, and loved one another. Now I see you with her laughing, Joking, playing, loving one another. Was I something worth being flushed away? Did we have a chance to get off the floor and swim to the bowl? You tell me no, but deep down I see blue. The smell of the rain and how the cat hair made me itch; The smell of the tree in the yard and your hands that cheered me on. I see them as mine once again someday. Were we lovers for a season, or is right-person wrong-time really a thing? When you find your answer to the question, I will be gone, on my own, maybe with someone new. But our time together will always remind me of the blue. The blue of the fishbowl, the sea we stared into, The blue of the rain that I held with my little hands; The blue of you.

Untitled | Anna Kolbe ’22 | Oil Paint

The Far Shore by Isabella Hutchinson ’21

It begins with the involuntary slip, tumbling into a numbing nosedive towards an inky pool ending with a sedating dip. It is a wonder you survived. Dusted with sand, you have arrived on the shaded shore, a monarch of this witching hour. A reigning power that shan’t be ignored. A walk along the sands a blessed respite from your endeavors. But beyond the edge of the lulling waters, a tearing break from a piercing gleam fragments your rayless realm to tatters. Blinking in the bursting dawn from a dream. Rising from the dusting of sand, the waters are wiped with the rub of a hand.

The Idea of Idealism | Arianne Duquella ’21 | Acrylic Paint

Once More by Theresa Borlongan ‘22

I lounge in tan, barren hallways I graze lockers of metal, rust, and old coffee stains I see white Nike’s approaching in brisk, heavy thumps Though vastness separates these two pairs of lonesome feet, A warning ringing, “Six feet!” Though lopsided smiles hide sheltered in satin, cloth, and cotton alike, Those lone eyes I see of browns, blues, and green hues Peer up at me with Rugged gentleness, fiery ice - tempests of weariness and pain Yet the crinkles that greet me at the corners of those eyes Look to light and rowdy chatter filling those walls, Shields that come down for all to see, And chests that breathe in that first taste of fresh cool air Once more

Dalmatian | Arianna Thompson-Bueno ’23 | Digital

Staff List Moderator: Dr. Clayton Zuba Editor-In-Chief: Alexandra Williams ’21 Head of Design: Helena Richardson ’22 Alexandra Scott ’21 Elena Titus ’22 Joscelynn Perez Ramirez ’23 Tatum Gallaspy ’23

Policies Pierian Spring solicits art and writing submissions over the course of the academic year via contests, public announcements, promotional flyers, and class assignments. Submissions are accepted via email to pierianspringsxcp@gmail.com until late March, which is closely followed by the evaluation process. Contest winners and published pieces are evalu-

ated based on visual and literary technique, significance, and overall appeal. Weighted rubrics are also used to assist members in their decision making. Pierian Spring reserves the right to edit content for appropriateness and pledges to address any changes with the original author.

Philosophy Pierian Spring is a student-run literary and artistic publication dedicated to displaying the creative talents of the students of Xavier College Preparatory. The Pierian Spring staff is de-

voted to promoting student expression and works together to produce a printed magazine for the enjoyment of the community.

Colophon Helena Richardson used Adobe InDesign CC to create the 2021 print issue of Xavier College Preparatory’s Pierian Spring literary and arts magazine. The dimensions are 8.5 inches by 11 inches. The body copy and attribution font is Open Sans in 16-17 pt. The title fonts are Ranille and Bogart. The cover art was created by Alex Williams. Printed by James Palmer and Daughter Printing.

©️ 2021 by Xavier College Preparatory’s Pierian Spring. 4710 N Fifth Street, Phoenix, AZ 85012. All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced in any manner without permission. All images and literary works are property of the respective artists, reproduced with the permission of the student.

vier College Prepa

Roman Catholic High Sc