Leaves of Imagination 2020-2021

Leaves of Imagination

Roland Park Country School 2020-2021

Contents

Lily Rapuano, 2021: Moon Ghazal...2 Ellen Salovaara, 2022: Of Eve....4 Rebecca Showalter, 2024: Fragile Wings...8-9 Sam Levinson, 2024:Without Women...12 Emma Fox, 2021: Nature’s Symphony...14 Samantha Rochlin, 2022: The Memory of Photographs...20-21 Charlotte Wight, 2022: Givers of Life...24 Sylvia Zhang, 2021: Winter...26 Emma Fox, 2021: My Fog...33 McKenzie Song, 2021: An Infinite Night...36-37 Lily Rapuano, 2021: Reclamation...40 Ellen Salovaara, 2022: Ode to Your Ghost...45 Sam Levinson, 2024: It’s Not Up to Me...48 Samantha Rochlin, 2022: The Moments That Made Me...54-55 Charlotte Wight, 2022: Selene Silver...57 Percival Koontz, 2023: STAR... 60-61 Rebecca Showalter, 2024...35 Chelsea Shumate, 2022...38 Clara Adams, 2024...39 Grace Sarkar, 2021...41 Rachel Cohen, 2024...42 Faculty Advisor for Literature: Grayson Klein, 2022...43 Lindsay Fitzpatrick Josie Kalbfleisch, 2023...44 Katie Currie, 2023...46 Meredith McGowan, 2021...47 Faculty Advisors for Artwork: McKenzie Song, 2021...49 Joy Reynolds, 2023...50 Tracy Bracken, Toby Rivkin, Emily Rohrer Makayla Zhang, 2021...51 Meghan Johnson, 2021...52 Katherine Guerrerio, 2023...53 Euterpe Ren, 2021...56 Chelsea Shumate, 2022...58 Lizzy Determan, 2022...59 Shapard Croft, 2023...62 Cover art by: Rachel Kipperman, 2023...63 Annie Drake, 2023...64 Abby Minkin, 2021 Suzannah Figler, 2023...65

Literature

Leaves of Imagination Art

Joy Reynolds, 2023...3 Emma Blumenthal, 2022...5 Jazzie Obasogie, 2021...6 Violet Lewin, 2024...7 Abby Love, 2022...10 Maddie Tannebaum, 2023...11 Laura Roberts, 2022...13 Mily Jenkins, 2022...15 Avery Paul, 2022...16 Laura Sacktor, 2022...17 Lucy Steele, 2023...18 Maggie Hillwig, 2021...19 Hannah Zink, 2023...22 Freya Lundgren, 2023...23 Aylin Metzel, 2023...25 Carter Rice, 2021...27 Cara Denton, 2021...28 Ella Kate West, 2023...29 Hannah Carroll, 2022...30 Bre’Arra Long, 2022...31 Jilly Cohen, 2022...32 Makenzie Pridgen, 2023...34

1

Moon Ghazal

by Lily Rapuano, 2021 Exit the house, take to viewing the bright moon, When fighting incurs, bring on the white moon.

When the house is quiet, outside, I focus elsewhere, to drown out the silence, laying in sight of the moon.

A story behind it, like everything else in the world, A busy mind, I’m considering the plight of the moon.

Many summer nights, I go outside to get away, and when I look at him, I’m forgetting my fright, moon.

My heritage lies in places on Earth, but I always think of Digger when contemplating the bright moon.

Though I knew him only in sickness and in youth I can’t recall, I still see him studying the might of the moon.

Engulfed in lilies about the garden, my fears melt away as I stare at the night sky, the blinding white moon.

2

Joy Reynolds, 2023

3

Of Eve

by Ellen Salovaara, 2022 I bit into the fruit, foaming And the juice ran down my chin Pooling at my feet until You thought I would drown I couldn’t taste it And I cried out When you said it was sweet I couldn’t feel knowledge But I saw the snake bite my ankle I shut my eyes and tried to Feel its teeth, sharpened But I felt nothing As it slithers away Take back these ribs, gifted They are not mine and They dig into my veins, roots Don’t twist your fingers so Your hands are spindles You can make the fabric Of this life, unfolding But I cannot feel My fingers are numb I CANNOT FEEL I melt into the tree

4

Emma Blumenthal, 2022

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6

Jazzie Obasogie, 2021

Violet Lewin, 2024

7

Fragile Wings

by Rebecca Showalter, 2024

Instead of waiting for sleep to swallow her as she usually did, the girl gathered enough courage to open her eyes to her room when the lights clicked off at dusk. To her surprise, instead of endless darkness to greet her, a sliver of pale light streamed from a seam in the paisley wallpaper.

The girl’s brother helped her tear off the wallpaper the next morning. They used their hands to scrape back the plaster until their nails scratched against the tainted glass of a window.

The window was too small to crawl through, but the girl’s brother showed her how to open it.

Once he did, the girl never strayed far from the window. Her eyes were always fixed on the world outside.

She stood there for hours a day, taking in the vibrancy of the green grass and the phenomena of the birds soaring across the intensely blue sky. How audacious one would have to be to brush the clouds, to defy gravity itself.

However, the girl spent more hours at the window at night than she did at day. The pain in her feet from standing so long was nothing compared to the constant dazzling specks of light woven in the deep sky, the silver guardians of the night.

The girl had known what stars were before she had found the window, but she had never known how fully they could capture her heart in their gentle hands.

“Can you take me with you?” The girl would ask when her brother prepared to leave. “So I can see the stars closer?”

“Soon,” her brother always replied. Then he would leave, but he would always come back.

“Will you take me when I get better?” The girl would ask when he returned.

“You’re not sick,” her brother would always reply.

“Of course I am,” the girl would counter.

This time her brother looked at her, and the girl realized for the first time that his eyes were like the stars.

Whether they were alike in color or distance, she could not tell, only that they shared the same infinity.

“Do you feel sick?” Her brother asked.

“‘It’s not the sort of sick you can feel’,” the girl quoted the words her parents gently repeated every night before clicking the lights of her room off from outside the locked door.

Her brother shook his head. “You’re not sick,” he repeated.

The girl shook her head as well. When her brother and parents spoke conflictingly, cobwebs like the ones woven between the paisley walls wound around her thoughts. The girl knew both her parents and brother perceived everything that she couldn’t begin to understand. That was what her parents always said about themselves, and she knew it had to be true about her brother too.

It was her brother who explained to the girl what the months were when he had given her a calendar.

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Continued on page 9

Fragile Wings January and February were cold, he explained, before the weather warmed in March and then cooled again in September.

The girl had asked him what cold and hot felt like compared to their ever-lukewarm bedroom.

Cold bit at your skin, her brother had answered. And hot pressed against you from all directions.

With the window open, it was easier to relate the months to their weather. What her brother told her was called a snowfall occurred in the middle of January, and the world the girl had started to become acquainted with was coated with white. She reached her hand out the window, but gasped and drew it back. The snow descending from the sky was a sharp bite against her palm, just as her brother had said.

Her brother laughed, and they sat down on the floor next to the calendar. He gave her a pencil to mark the fifteenth day of the month with an ‘x’.

She asked him how she would know which ‘x’ was the new ‘x’, since all five that she had written for the January fifteenths past overlapped. He answered that she could write a five beside the month, to show that this was the fifth time she was using the calendar since he had given it to her.

The girl remembered that day. It was before they had found the window and the days blurred endlessly together as she sat in the room staring at the paisley wallpaper and asking her brother questions of the world beyond their bedroom of sixty-four square feet. It was before she could reach her hands out of the window and marvel at how her spread out fingers almost looked like wings of birds against the clouds.

When her parents stopped outside the locked door to turn the lights off in her room, the girl repeated to them what her brother had told her.

“I’m not sick,” the girl said.

“Of course you are,” her mother responded softly.

The girl shook her head. “Don’t worry,” she told her parents as an afterthought. “My brother’s left, but he’ll be back soon.”

“Honey,” her mother sighed wearily. “What brother?”

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10

Abby Love, 2022

Maddie Tannebaum, 2023

11

Without Women

by Sam Levinson, 2024 Without Rosalind Franklin what would we know about DNA? Where would science be today?

Her work was stolen by a man, work she later died for.

Without Anne’s diary, what would we know about the Holocaust?

Without her diary of scars Would we even know the number of precious lives lost?

What would we know about sexual harassment without the unspoken yet written words of Maya Angelou?

Raped by her mom’s boyfriend when she was only seven Her uncles murdered him, Only her brother left to put trust in Silent for five years, no sound was made.

Except silent tears Without Queen Elizabeth How would we know women can rule?

She chose her country over a man She chose power over tradition She set the empowering women-empower women foundation.

Without Catherine the Great to know where justice was due In 1762 it was her foul husband she overthrew.

Naming herself Empress of the Russian Empire Now we see badass feminine power 1955 when Rosa Parks did not stand for a white man Not for him, but for civil rights she did stand.

Malala shot in the head for standing up for her education Built to survive.

Born to empower women in education to thrive.

Lastly Kamala Harris First but not last Female Vice President of the USA Sworn into office earlier today.

Empowering other ladies like you and me Now it’s time for women to rule So, to the men against us Time for y’all to take a damn knee.

12

Laura Roberts, 2022

13

Nature’s Symphony

by Emma Fox, 2021 On the horizon sits a shelf of darkness Thick gray clouds consume the sky Spiraling winds howl and moan The timpani of thunder rumbles in the distance Cracks of lightning strike a pose Large raindrops give way to the downpour that follows Branches snap and tree tops thrash Mother Nature’s fury is unleashed The storm builds to a perfect crescendo A prelude to her flawless symphony of anger

14

Mily Jenkins, 2022

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16

Avery Paul, 2022

Laura Sacktor, 2022

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18

Lucy Steele, 2023

Maggie Hillwig, 2021

19

The Memory of Photographs

by Samantha Rochlin, 2022 Looking at old photographs I see you, my love, the one that ran away, because he was too afraid of me, the mad girl who will love him forever.

What a long time it must be, forever.

The years go by and the photographs fade, yet I’m still the mad one, still the one crazy in love scared of the future, afraid to let go. To go away.

Sometimes I wish I lived far far away In those fairy tales that can last forever.

Where the princess is never afraid, and the photographs are paintings made with love.

Oh, how this fantasy drives me mad.

But I can’t be mad, because that’s what made you run away.

And if you leave again my love I will regret it forever.

I can’t handle if you become just another photo faded with the time. That thought makes me so afraid.

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continued on page 21

The Memory of Photographs I truly am afraid that I’ll forget you once the pictures fade, isn’t that mad?

You see, the girl in those photographs she is completely gone, gone away.

Forever.

But still she whispers: don’t fall in love, and please don’t fall in love with the nice boy, who knows better than to be afraid of the girl destined to be alone, forever.

Isn’t it truly mad, that you can be the one that got away while I’m stuck staring at the photographs?

But I still love you, and I’ll always be your madness.

So don’t be afraid that I could get away Because you’re stuck with me forever. At least in these photographs.

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22

Hannah Zink, 2023

Freya Lundgren, 2023

23

Givers of Life

by Charlotte Wight, 2022 Can you hear the trees speak?

Do they call out to one another As bark snaps and leaves fall?

What do they say as they breathe their last breaths Do they cry out for air as they hit the ground?

The trees scream as blue inferno crawls up their limbs They suffocate in the ash cloud as their families fall The roaring fire separates bark from trunk and leaves from branch Wooden bodies litter the earth As fire makes way for life, Where that family of trees once stood The ground is home to saplings, roots, and new life The bodies of old nourish the young Giving way to a new family of trees.

New roots grab the earth like an outstretched hand They reach towards the sun, anticipating a promise The promise of rich soil, a blue sky, and a green life The promise of water, sugar, and sun The trees will grow up strong and new Wind whistling happily through the leaves The leaves that were born out of fire and screams Everything old must die Everything dead must give life

24

Aylin Metzel, 2023

25

Winter

by Sylvia Zhang, 2021 After a snow, You got a cold.

Passing through the forest.

Snot on a branch. one by one glistening.

Only desolation and vicissitude remaining on bare branches, nothing left to fall down from the tree.

And ultimately, the sparrow fell.

26

Lila Hathaway grade 12 Drowning in Plastic

Carter Rice, 2021

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28

Cara Denton, 2021

Ella Kate West, 2023

29

30

Hannah Carroll, 2022

Bre’Arra Long, 2022

31

32

Jilly Cohen, 2022

My Fog

by Emma Fox, 2021 A veil of fog moves in Containing all of my worst thoughts Suffocating joy Making existence murky and dark Blurring the lines of reality Refusing to dissipate A low-lying cloud Suspended Light struggles to pierce the veil Gone for now

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34

Makenzie Pridgen, 2023

Rebecca Showalter, 2024

35

An Infinite Night

by McKenzie Song, 2021 Somewhere up above, the moon studies his gleam, and stifles a yawn while soaking in light.

He observes the rising waves as they tear through sinking sand and gloom in pools of lonesome beneath the surface of sight.

He scoffs in the solitude of night.

When darkness has fallen in the deepest of night, he longs to pursue the creator of gleam.

Aching from matted thoughts and love out of sight, he wishes for hope through the unfailing light.

While night only brings darkness and gloom, he succumbs to their calls and concedes to his tears.

It seems like forever he waits, with tears blurring the haze of skies each night, while hope resides dimmed across the sea of gloom, disconnecting two souls only tangled by gleam.

But the familiar warmth of her abiding light allures his notice to her intoxicating sight.

As he gazes on now, through every ounce of sight, he hums with the rhythm of torn love’s tears and silently watches the beads of light foolishly fall into the darkness of night.

For he knows best, and forever wishes for gleam, rather than endless eternity in his ghastly gloom.

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continued on page 37

An Infinite Night So, he sits and watches while smothering gloom, and glances towards love almost out of sight, silently stung by the world choked of her gleam.

For his arrival lures deafening darkness that tears her glow from watchful eyes and rains night on the beams of only hopeful light.

Time dwells on as he yearns for morning’s light to disguise his curse and cloak midnight’s gloom.

Hopelessly awaiting his savior from night to peel back the darkness from all in sight.

Watching the world, eyes heavy with tears, he longs to be the waves kissing traces of her gleam.

In an infinite night, he watches her gleam, with the ache of gloom and yearning for light the companions of tears as they bottle her sight.

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3838

Chelsea Shumate, 2022

Clara Adams , 2024

39

Reclamation

by Lily Rapuano, 2021 Jack in the Pulpit sprouts through the hard ground.

Creeping Phlox follows suit between ivy leaves.

The cracks in the cement grow longer.

The shattered glass on the floor blows away with time.

The history of this place no longer matters, though the spirit of those who suffered lingers in the life that’s left behind, in the Arisaema, in the Phlox, in the Hedera.

The remains of those extinguished lives slowly resurface with each outburst of harshness from the wild.

Those remains uncovered in the moonlight, erosion exposing the cruelty of the past, of the present.

But soon again life takes loss’s place, as bluegrass permeates the pores of the dirt, and the skulls of those souls who suffered the most get covered with earth and are buried once more.

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Grace Sarkar, 2021

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42

Rachel Cohen, 2024

Grayson Klein, 2022

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Josie Kalbfleisch, 2023

Ode to Your Ghost

by Ellen Salovaara, 2022 I pulled back the curtain too far And saw your ghost in the grass I wondered if the dead breathe memories If your lungs were filled with the past Meet me in the hallway I said So you can tell me how you died Sit by me at the table So I can look into your eyes Hand me your hollow palms So I can see the forked lines But This wretched, pulsing house Wouldn’t let you inside.

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46

Katie Currie, 2023

Meredith McGowan, 2021

47

It’s Not Up to Me

by Sam Levinson, 2024 I put on a crop top and realize I can’t wear it out of the house because ‘boys will be boys’ I put on red lipstick because I like how it looks but I rub it off because I’ll get name-called I wear jean shorts and take them off because ‘boys will be boys’ I wear a tank top that shows my shoulders, but I can’t because my shoulders are sexualized I cover up and I am a prude I show skin and I’m a tramp I kiss a few boys and get called a harlot He kisses a few girls and gets called champ I get told not to be insecure but the second I’m confident I am told there is nothing to be confident about There is no right answer Anything I do will be criticized Anything I wear will be sexualized So, I put on sweats and no makeup and nobody notices me.

Because that is what society has done to me.

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McKenzie Song, 2021

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50

Joy Reynolds, 2023

Makayla Zhang, 2021

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52

Meghan Johnson, 2021

Katherine Guerrerio, 2023

53

The Moments That Made Me

by Samantha Rochlin, 2022 I am from the snow-white mountains of the long forgotten mining town, the trees aching under the weight of the powder waiting to be crossed.

I am from the campfire burning, the ashes in my eyes, the mean girls whispering behind my back.

I am from the hidden section of the store behind my neighborhood where the fancy Barbies lived, the ones I begged to take home.

Where I spent hours longing to escape into their world.

Longing to escape from my world.

I am from the crisp pages of the new book my father would read to me, lying in the warmth of my bed.

I am from the glaring lamp light I would steal to stay up later reading and dreaming.

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The Moments That Made Me I am from all the “shut ups” the “sit downs” from the corner of the classroom, they made me stand in.

I am from the swings on the playground, the ones that made that awful squeak where once a girl just flew away.

Or at least that’s what they told us.

I am from the hotel room where I had my first kiss and from the beach where I had my last.

I’m from the late nights crying, the homework left unfinished, the record that always skips when it shouldn’t.

I am from Lilith, from Ruth who never listened to what they were told who never followed the rules.

I am from great grandma Sarah who crossed the ocean all alone, to escape to a better world.

The world I am from.

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56

Euterpe Ren, 2021

Selene Silver

by Charlotte Wight, 2022 She told me I was the moon.

Halloween harvest, July blue, and Selene silver I stretch out across the stars with Orion and Artemis I reach out to Polaris and feel the warmth of the North She told me I was the moon And I believe her.

Look at the moon, she said, Do you see it?

Yes, I say.

It comes every night.

Yeah it does.

Nine Muses, but I am the forgotten tenth.

I am Eurydice, but Orpheus does not look back.

He leaves me behind in Hell.

I sink down under the sunrise.

I sleep restlessly until the sun bids us farewell.

I am back until he comes again.

I live a Sisyphean existence.

The moon will always be here, no matter what, Just like you, she says.

Every night the moon will be here, Every night the moon rises, It doesn’t give up.

Neither will you.

I am the Tenth Muse.

I am Eurydice, and Orpheus looks back.

I am Sisyphus, and I finish my task.

I am the moon, and tonight I will rise.

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Chelsea Shumate, 2022

Lizzy Determan, 2022

59

STAR

by Percival Koontz, 2023 A star is something of wonder It shines in our darkest hours It sparkles in the night sky But a star is lonely For it stand against the dark Unsupported We stars live our lives in our own shadow We long to raise our voices To cry out, “hey! Over here! Here I am, right here, I’ve always been right here, here, hear me, see me, look at me!”

And when they do When they struggle to move their stiff necks When they turn their blind eyes towards us And angle their deaf ears in our direction They see nothing but an empty shell Nothing but a shadow For the longer we yearn for their attention The more we fear it And the quicker we retreat back into the shadows So, we continue to go unheard unseen unnoticed But no more No more will I stand alone shrouded in my own dark shadow No more

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Continued on page 61

STAR I will step forward I will cry out, “Hear me! Listen with your deaf ears and hear me!

See me! Open your blind eyes and see me!

Look at me! Stretch out your stiff necks and look at me!”

And when they do I won’t shy back I won’t hide in the shadow No They will hear me Not an echo They will see me Not a shell For they will be looking at me not my shadow and if I’m not alone If we stand together we will demolish all darkness because we are stars we sparkle in the night sky we shine your darkest hours we light up the shadows for we cast no shadow.

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Shapard Croft, 2023

Rachel Kipperman, 2023

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64

Annie Drake, 2023

Suzannah Figler, 2023

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