Akira 2021

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AKIRA Literary and Art Magazine 2020-2021 Published by St. Pius X High School Albuquerque, New Mexico

Copyright © 2021 by St. PiusX High School Akir a|3

Copyright © 2021 by St. Pius X High School Akira is a common Japanese given name and directly translates to ?bright light.?

Akira Literary & Art Magazinewas created in the early 90's by SPX creative writing teacher, Julia Huchmala.

All rights reserved. No part of this magazine may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Distribution of this magazine without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this magazine is coverless, it may have been reported to Ms. Jennifer Hillsey or Ms. Isabella Clarke as ?ungifted or destroyed?and neither author nor dealer may have received praise for it. Sorry for the inconvenience.

The body text is set in Crimson, a classic style serif typeface created in 2010 by German type designer, Sebastian Kosch. Inspired by beautiful old style typefaces, Kosch designed this open-source font for book production. Kosch's current projects include YinYangFit, a letterfitting model based on biology in which he explores whether beauty and legibility can be objectively measured.

AMCN: 5-053-406797 AMDN: 5-058-313-131 Akir a|4

TABLE OF CONTENTS TI TLE The Tower in the Sky Goodbye

NAME Nicholas Martinez

PAGE Cover

Katrina Barela

11

Isabel Roddy

12

Isabella Apodaca

13

Angelina Martinez

15

I Know You

Neil Silver

16

Black Honey

James Lovato

17

Last Call at 5 O'Clock

Isabella Clarke

18

W olf W alker

Gracie Cooper

19

Hidden Serenity

Amanda Garcia

20

Heavens Roundabout

Gracie Cooper

21

A Little W hile Longer

Isabella Clarke

22

Surface Level Love

Cierra Sandoval

23

Anywhere But Here

Geri Luchetti

25

Rose Vigil

26

Gavin Montoya

27

Ava Armijo

31

Creation

Joshua Brown

32

Tiger

Joseph Sachez

33

The Large and the Small

Sean Goodyear

34

Hair of Fire

Isabella Apodaca

35

La Flor

Elizabeth Nunez

36

Maria Allocca

37

Mark Robinson

38

Unsatisfied Society The Bright Colors at the End of the Day El Caballo Colorido

Begin Again Letting Cranes Go Infinite Love

Inclination to Disorder W hy I Love Reading

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TABLE OF CONTENTS TI TLE Self Portrait as an Old Desert Cowboy

NAME

PAGE

Robert W illitis

40

Cascading Falls

Jacob Moehn

41

Spine Poem

Ava Armijo

42

BLM

Angelina Martinez

44

Solfeggietto by C.P.E Bach in C Minor

Nicholas Pascuzzi

45

Dear Cierra

Isabella Clarke

46

Dear Isabella

Cierra Sandoval

47

Rose Vigil

48

Maria Allocca

50

Caroline Madrid

51

Missed

Danny Pham

52

W hat W ould I Be

Isabella Clarke

53

Brendan Salceies

54

Ava Armijo

55

Cierra Sandoval

56

Isabel Roddy

57

Robert W illitis

59

Charla Smith

60

Angelina Martinez

61

W hy

Danny Pham

62

I. The Drive

Isabella Clarke

63

II. The First Night

Isabella Clarke

64

III. The Second Day

Isabella Clarke

65

IV. How To Mourn

Isabella Clarke

66

Life In New Mexico Monarch Lamanai Magic

Snow Oceanside Voodoo Doll I Found the Universe Shaman #3 I Don't W ant Truth Dreamer

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TABLE OF CONTENTS TI TLE V. A Girl Gain Her W omanhood Through Death

NAME

PAGE

Isabella Clarke

67

Angelina Martinez

68

I Cannot W rite W hat I Do Not Feel

Cierra Sandoval

69

Secrets

Susanna Lanuca

70

The Sky

Jacob Moehn

71

The One Thing That Stays

Monica Penn

72

La Luna (Spanish)

Monica Penn

73

A Lua (Portuguese)

Monica Penn

73

The Moon

Monica Penn

74

Ka Mahina (Hawaiian)

Monica Penn

74

The W oman In The Sky

Maria Allocca

75

Better Devils

Nick Hanson

76

Fake Friends

Jackie Beckett

77

The Cabin Knows No Fear

Erica Olguin

78

The W atched Pot

Isabella Clarke

81

Of Fallen Stars and Girls Not Quite Living

Isabella Clarke

82

Ang Buwan (Tagalog)

Monica Penn

84

Capitalist Capri Sun

Cierra Sandoval

85

Monsters

Madison Davis

86

Rose Vigil

87

Robert W illitis

88

Susanna Lanucara

89

From Place to Place

Amanda Garcia

90

The W ind

Cierra Sandoval

91

Shamed

The Ghost Is Chasing Me Self Portrait as an Old Starving Artist . . .

Countdown

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TABLE OF CONTENTS TI TLE

NAME

Let Down Your Hair

Isabel Roddy

92

Girl In The Mirror

Cierra Sandoval

93

That Innocent One

Emily Valdez

94

The Rainbow Inside Us All

Maddy Morrow

96

Coins

Gracie Cooper

97

From the Heart

Angelina Martinez

98

Lion

Matthew Cornelius

99

Old Friends, Or Not

Maria Allocca

100

Another Cheesy Poem

James Lovato

102

Door To. . .

Aidan DuBois

103

Neil Silver

104

Susanna Lanucara

105

The Type of People W ho Fight

Aidan DuBois

106

Society Standards

Jackie Beckett

107

New Mexico Sunset

Jude Jenkins

108

Grinding Metal

Cierra Sandoval

109

The Dream

Isabella Apodaca

110

Nick Hanson

111

Self Portrait

Elizabeth Rivera

112

Standing Tall

Christopher Perea

113

At the Blade's Command

Onyinye Anozie

114

Act

Cierra Sandoval

115

Alone In A Space Suit.

Joey Gonzales

116

The Future.

Joey Gonzales

117

Selective Service Failure

Heart of Gold

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PAGE

TABLE OF CONTENTS TI TLE

NAME

PAGE

Untitled

Isabella Clarke

118

The Dreamer

Isabella Sanchez

119

ms. inquisitive

Onyinye Anozie

120

30 Zloty

Onyinye Anozie

124

yellowinsatiable

Onyinye Anozie

127

Erica Olguin

133

Island of Isolation Akira Staff

134

Akira Editors

135

Distant W onder

Nicholas Martinez

back cover

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"Thoughmy soul may set in darkness, it will risein perfect light . . ."

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goodbye

Katrina Barela Akir a|11

Unsatisfied Society Akir a|12

Isabel Roddy

THE BRIGHT COLORS AT THE END OF THE DAY I sabella Apodaca

As a child, I never once thought that adulthood would be full of love and heartbreak. But the past few years of adulthood have been full of the two and recently I had experienced the worst heartbreak of my life. Our love had started so quickly only to end just as fast, with just as much passion as there was in our relationship. Every waking moment had been spent together and now it felt as if there was a gaping hole in my chest. She was beautiful but complicated, kind of like poetry, complex and confusing but so enticing. Her bright waterfall eyes had captured my soul the second I saw her, and I guess a certain part of me will always belong to her. But being in the city where we fell in love hurt too much to stay, so I left. I had finally come home after moving out for college just 7 years ago, and it felt great to be back.

All I wanted was to see my family but they didn?t accept certain life choices of mine, so instead, I got a hotel room hopefully just for the night. As I went for a late-night swim, I realized that my heart wasn?t hurt as much as my brain was confused. I had never understood why she left, we had been so into each other, had discussed being in each other?s futures, and she just walked into my house one night to say that it wasn?t going to work out. We hadn?t fought that night and even when we did we always made up one way or another. But I guess her mysteriousness was what had enamored me in the first place. She had never told me where she had come from or about her family, and not anything about her past. I have always been such a straightforward person that likes to figure things out and she was one puzzle I could never. Her love and caringness always made up for the fact that I didn?t really know about her past, and to be honest, I didn?t mind not knowing. I loved her for who she was now not who she had been.

Our love felt like it could conquer anything and nothing seemed to get in the way of it. We were fully committed to each other and I couldn?t help but think

that maybe it had been too good to be true. Despite everything, I craved her touch again, the warmth of her hand on my back, and her loving embrace. Our kiss felt like a million shooting stars were zooming through my mind and she made me feel invincible. I wanted her here to reassure me everything would be alright and we could get over this. But my rational mind told me she wasn?t coming back and I knew that to be true. If not for everything else I knew I could count on her word, she always kept it. And even if she did come back, I don?t know what I?d do. She was always like a sunset in my world of boring blue skies, and I missed it. And with that, I realized that there was a place that would mend my shattered heart and soul.

In the morning, after a night of blank dreams, I headed out to go to my favorite place as a child. My brother would take me there and tell me all about his conquests and accomplishments. I missed him, but being in the army had its tolls and he was paying his. As I drove up there, I remembered all that had happened between me and my past partner, all the good and bad.

It took practically all day to get there but I knew all the driving would be worth it because the beauty of this place was far beyond what could be found in the rugged city. This was the only place I had ever felt like I truly belonged and that was an amazing thing all on its own.

The love for my brother and the scenery was all combined when I went to this place and I hadn?t been there for 15 years or more. I couldn?t wait to finally connect with my missing puzzle piece.

W hen I got there it was like nothing had changed, all the trees were still there framing the view as a picture, and the cliff where I had sat so many times was there beckoning me. I sat down right as the view changed. The beautiful colors lit up the sky, in a way that made fireworks look like a tiny match. Yellow, red, and orange moved down to make room and blue with some purple shown just at the top. The sun was saying goodbye and the night sky was emerging, with all its

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THE BRIGHT COLORS AT THE END OF THE DAY I sabella Apodaca greatness. It felt as if the world was painting a picture just for me, and I was in on the secret that it would be back tomorrow.

To me, the colors always represented hard and stubborn days slowly making way for a new tomorrow and everything would be okay. The night was mysterious but yet gorgeous in every way, kind of like my girl. But somehow the night always conquered the day, and even though the sun was a bright, hot, and rough thing, the moon in all its gentleness and beauty, seemed to calm it down. This persistence and constant repetition had always calmed me and it continued to this. The moment seemed to be the Band-Aid to my wound that felt incredibly painful just a few seconds earlier that was now okay.

As a kid, I didn?t know the name for this beautiful picture and I called it the bright colors at the end of the day, but this sunset was the answer to all my questions and the love to mend all my wounds. At that moment everything was perfect and I was glad I had come back.

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El CaballoColorido

Angelina Martinez Akir a|15

I KNOW YOU Neil Silver I have known you walking Up this path, through the door Framed by the darkening horizon Your single puff of white breath Rising to the dusk?s cold rainbow I will know you W hen all that remains Is a single undissipated breath Floating through the atmosphere An invisible balloon containing words Bound by an envelope of incomprehension Until a pin prick truth Reduces you to a stillness A whisper, a breeze ringing chimes The you I know this morning Is sleeping framed by pillows Your rhythmic breath is wordless And each jumble of moist, warm air Like the chest?s rise and fall Transforms sunlight empires into dust

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BLACK HONEY James L ovato Face of an angel, eyes like pools of honey.

Skin as flawless as a fresh layer of snow.

My feelings, I must not show.

My confidence reaches new lows, my love will never go.

Your eyes tell a story of love and war.

I would never hurt you like those before.

No chance I can let you go, girls like you don't come and go.

Every time we meet, my heart beats out of my chest, I just want to give you my best.

Give me one chance, and baby we can have a long romance.

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LAST CALL AT 5 O'CLOCK I sabella Clarke It is the first time I have entered a real church in years.

And to be honest, I am not quite sure how I found myself here.

It is quieter than I remember, And I wonder if I too am quieter than it remembers.

I find my mouth tracing hymns and stop, Reminding myself I should not speak if I do not believe.

The altar is empty and glittering, And Father so small and lonely upon it.

He turns to the congregation and says, ?This will be the last 5 o?clock Mass.?

My hands start to tremble.

As I leave, I am handed a coloring book.

The priest is young and new and nervous, And I almost want to laugh and hand it back.

Instead, I thank him and tuck it into my pocket.

As I walk home, the sky begins to bleed gold As if to mark this moment, As if to shout in glee, ?Look at the little heretic who came for last call.?

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WOLF WALKER Gracie Cooper He dashed through the midnight air The moonlight fills up the lake W ind running through his fine hair And he?ll stay till mornings break Flower petals dance as he runs The world around him begins to blur Racing under the midnight sun A mess of silky wild fur A hollow sound fills the night Full of sorrow and rage He misses her, in his own right He fights his want to stay A winters breeze flutters through the air And he whispers ?Are you there??

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Hidden Serenity

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Amanda Garcia

HEAVENS ROUNDABOUT W ritten & Performed by Gracie Cooper I swear I know, I swear I see W hat is going on inside of me I try and try But I still fall, that?s just how it goes after all The stars cave in, the moon flickers out But I?m still here in heavens roundabout I try and try But I?m still here I swear, I swear things used to be fair I know, I know you warned me but I I couldn?t see through these veiled eyes The stars cave in, the moon flickers out But I can?t see a thing in heavens roundabout The stars cave in, the moon flickers out But I can?t hear a thing in heavens roundabout I hear bells, echo through the evening air The sound is so cold, but I can feel you there Every time my curtains move or my eyes go dry I know I?m missing you, but I have no tears left to cry Oh, heavens roundabout messes with these sheltered eyes Is this really what it takes to make it through the night?

I will not lie and I will not die As the moon flickers out and the evening dies

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A LITTLE WHILE LONGER I sabella Clarke My dear, let us be soft a while longer.

Let us be new and shiny and unwise, Let us be gentle and simple and sweet, Let us linger in this lovely foolishness.

We still have time to harden, We still have months and years to rust and wisen.

One day, our skin will crack and break and bleed to the touch.

So, my dear, let us be soft a while longer.

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SURFACE LEVEL LOVE Cierra Sandoval I have the words to write about some surface level romance You know the one Scattered with butterflies And paper hearts The ?Oh-So-Cliché?love That is why I have never written about you Because how can I write about a feeling bigger than myself?

Our love is anything but cliché Yet you and I both still hear The words of criticism from those who have never felt what we so strongly have My love I cannot simply write you a sonnet One comparing your smile to the sun Or your eyes to the ocean Because yes, Your smile does lighten up my day And yes, it does make me feel a warmth unmatched by any other But that does not do justice to your smile Your smile makes me feel safe Like nothing and no one can ever hurt me again Your smile can make the worst of days disappear into a distant memory My God Your smile makes me smile (which you know I never used to do)

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SURFACE LEVEL LOVE Cierra Sandoval

And yes, I can so easily get lost in your eyes But your eyes are no shade of blue They are dark hazelnut sprinkled with flecks of gold They are the windows to your soul So no I do not stare at them in hopes of seeing my own reflection I am looking to see if maybe just maybe you feel the same way I do I can not write about my love for you Because there are no words that I can muster to even begin to describe the way I feel about you For Those words do not exist Love This is not a surface level feeling So I can not write surface level words That so many have used for loves that do not last For our love is everlasting So who am I to try and write it into existence?

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Anywherebut here

Geri Luchetti

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BEGIN AGAIN Rose Vigil The rain pattered next to her.

She glanced out the window, and began to ponder.

She pondered about the one drop.

Did it know where it was going?

Did it have a predetermined path?

Or was its destination random?

Maybe that one tiny drop was simply going for a stroll.

Maybe it never wondered if it could be more. there once was a day full of sadness and regret, which poured from my eyes, trailing down my cheeks, and falling onto my shoulders, dampening the old shirt I wore, washing away memories and allowing me to begin again.

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LETTING CRANES GO Gavin Montoya Every summer, as soon as I was done with

and fishing for dinner my mother would stay back at

school, my parents would take me to their cabin up in

the cabin and try to make the cabin look exactly the

the Rockies. I could not wait for school to end; it was all

same as it was the summer before. She would pull

that I could think about when those last few weeks of

everything from the storage shed and go through it

school approached. I remember telling all my school

piece by piece and put the items in the place she

yard friends about how much my dad and I did together

thought they had been the year before. She could never

and all that he taught me. I told them how he taught me

get it exactly right, but neither my father nor I would

how to start a fire and I would crouch down on the

say anything. Instead my father would say, ?I don?t

sand and mimic what my father showed me. I would

know how you do it, Donna but every year you manage

brag to them about how many fish he and I would

to make this place the same.? He would take his big

catch, and how we had a secret spot that no one else

carpenter arms and wrap them around my mom and

knew about. I explained how I had my very own

kiss her on both her rosy cheeks, making sure each time

boulder that my father would sit me on. Every year my

it made a loud smack. I would always cover my head in

fish got bigger, and every year my friends' mouths

shame, blushing.

would be draped open even larger. I had to be the proudest fifth grade boy in that school.

My father would then take the six fish; the three that I caught and the three that he caught, his were

W hen we finally made it to the cabin after a

always bigger than mine; and put them on the counter

nine hour truck ride from Albuquerque, New Mexico,

in the kitchen. ?These are already cleaned, babe. You

the first thing my father would have me help him do

think you could whip up some of your famous trout de

was clear all the mice from the cabin. He made a game

Don? Me and Dave are gonna take a trip down to the

of it, telling me, ?For every mouse you get, I will give

bait shop and pick up a few things.?

you a new fly to fish with.? My father made his own

The old man, with his large, heavy breathing

flies. That is what he would do in his spare time when

nose and bushy gray eyebrows that looked like fox tails

he was not building furniture for his clients. My dad

always recognized my father. His name was Mr. Shilling

liked to work with his hands and I don?t think he would

and he always told my dad where the good fishing was

have been happier doing anything else.

and what they were biting on. The bait shop was in an

That summer I killed fifteen mice. My dad

old cabin and Mr. Shilling lived in the back. He had no

would hook the flies onto the cotton patch attached to

wife and no kids. W hen my father asked him ?how the

my vest like they were war medals. Every time he did

wife and kids were,?he would say ?bait is my wife, and

this he would give me a pat on the shoulder and mess

the fish ate my kids.?

up my shaggy brown hair.

W hile my father and I were out chopping wood

I had a collection of flies that my father liked to call Shillings, because every time we walked into the

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Let t ing Cr anes Go Gavin Montoya shop Mr. Shilling would breath his heavy breath, that

was cleaning out the dirt from under his nails. He

smelt of sour milk on me and ask. ?Say boy, what is that

looked over at me and saw me watching him and smiled

you got behind your ear?? He would reach his sturdy

at me from under his thick beard. Then continued with

arm towards the side of my head and pull a fly from

the knife.

behind my ear, and then he would hook it on the cotton

My mother came into the room and sat on my

patch with my father?s flies. He called that specific one a

bed and began to tuck me in. She looked as if she had

?whisker bug.?Mr. Shilling was only there for the next

been crying. Her blue green eyes were surrounded by

few summers. He passed away a lonely, but happy man.

the puffy red skin of her eyes. I did not ask if she had

At least that is what I heard.

been crying. She gave one last pull and tug on the sheets

W hen we returned, mother had dinner ready.

and then kissed me on my forehead. ?Good night

Her trout was always so delicious I loved to pick out all

Davey.? She turned the lamp off and closed the door

the little bones and enjoy every bite of the tender fillet. I

behind her. I remember I did not sleep well that night; I

don?t think I ever said a word while I was eating that

don?t know if it was that I was not used to the bed or

trout my mom made so well. My parents would sit and

that I had seen something in her eyes that I didn?t not

enjoy watching me eat. I could see mother smiling out

figure out until later in my life.

of the corner of my eye. I could see the pale crimson of

The next day my dad got me up early and took

her lips and the light wrinkles at the corners of her

me back to our spot. W hen we got there the sun was

mouth. Her blue green eyes glistened in the dim light of

beginning to warm things up, and the birds were

the cabin. She?s beautiful. I know why my dad chose

chirping their songs. The air was crisp and there was a

her.

light fog among the upper part of the trees. My father I was done with my meal. My mother cleared

had his waders on and his fly rod with him. He was

the table and washed the dishes. ?It?s time to get ready

going to catch some fish as they were feasting on the

for bed. I will be there to tuck you in soon, ? she said.

bugs searching for an early morning drink. I hadn?t yet

She always had to tuck me in. If I wouldn?t have refused

learned how to fly cast and he said I wasn?t quite old

when I got older, she would have continued doing so.

enough to hold a fly rod. But he would rig my line with

That year my bed looked as it had the year

a clear floater with a fly on the end which was just fine

before. It had a large purple quilt on it with baby blue

for me. ?Say Dave what do you say you let me use that

sheets underneath. The bed was always cool when I got

fly old Shilling gave you??I pulled the brown woolen fly

under the covers. I could hear my parents talking in the

from my vest and handed it to him, and then he took a

kitchen. Even though they were whispering. ?Did you

fly from his vest and tied it to the end of my line. My

tell him?? my mom asked. My father simply answered

father went down stream and I watched him go to work

?tomorrow,? and she left it at that. There was no more

as I cast my line out and waited for a bite.

talking after that just the clank of dishes against the

W atching my father was like watching a

sink. I could see my father sitting in the chair in the

painter. Every time he drew back his rod and whipped

living room from my bed. He had his pocket knife and

it forward it was like he was stroking the water with his

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Let t ing Cr anes Go Gavin Montoya brush. The water was his canvas and the image he

the stream was surrounded by lush green, a secluded

created was life. I did not realize this at the time. I just

area with its own little world and my father and I were

admired his skill and aspired to fly fish like him when I

the only humans that occupied it. I felt safe.

got old enough to hold a fly rod. The only time I took

My father had told me to join him on his rock,

my eyes off of him was to check on my bobber if I had

my feet no longer could reach the cold water. I

not felt any nibbles.

distinctly remember the look on his face, it was a proud

He caught four good- sized fish that morning and as we

look that overshadowed a deep sadness within. I had

were reeling in to break for lunch I got a bite. It bit hard

never seen my father and never did, that look was as

and gave me a fight, but it was no more than five

close as it ever came. He was holding something back,

inches. I wanted to keep it since it was the only one I

he was protecting me; or just loving me. ?I?m proud of

had caught so far. ?Go ahead and throw it back Dave.

you. Throwing that fish back was a good thing Dave.?

It?s too small buddy.?

There was pain in his usual sturdy voice.

?But I want to keep it. I haven?t caught anything else

?W hat?s the matter? was mom crying last night?? I

today.?

said.

?You don?t want to keep it son. It?s too small. Let it go

?Did I ever tell you the story about the man who died

and let it grow bigger. That way, next time you come

and became a crane with golden feathers, and came

we can catch him again. Here hand it to me.?

back to his family every year and gave them a golden

He put his hand out for me to give him the fish. I gave

feather so they could eat and live, and then one year

it to him and he pulled out his pocket knife and cut a

they planned to trap him and pluck him of all his

piece of his tail fin out and gave it back to me.

feathers??

?That way, when you come back, you know if you

?No, you didn?t. W hat happened??

caught the same fish. No other fish in that water should

?Well when he came back the next time they trapped

have a marking like that.?

him and plucked him of all his feathers, and their greed

?Didn?t that hurt the fish??I asked.

caused all the feathers to turn in to regular crane feathers. The man asks, ?W hy family, do you treat me

?Only at first and then they forget and swim on. Go on, put him back in the water.? I did so and the little guy swam away. ?See you next year,?my father exclaimed.

this way? I return to you every year and give you more than enough.?They had no answer for him. They kept him there until his feathers grew back to see if they would come back gold, but they did not. They took him

We sat down together at the edge of the stream

from his cage and told him to leave, that he was no use

with our feet in the cool water, and we ate the

then. As he stood perched in the window, he looked

sandwiches mother made for us. The rocks we sat on

back and wondered where he went wrong with his

were warm from the beaming sun and the water was

family and why they were that way. As he stood there

cool from the winter's snow fall. That particular part of

his feathers became gold once again and he flew off. He Akir a|29

Let t ing Cr anes Go Gavin Montoya never returned.? ?W hy would his family do that to him??

place to fish. I took my rightful place on my boulder. It did not seem right sitting there and not being able to watch my father gracefully cast his line. My uncle was

?I don?t know son, that is what greed will do to you.? I shook my head, but I did not still fully understand.

not as experienced as my father when it came to fishing; he could hardly manage the simplest of knots. I was the one to catch the first fish that year, I caught the fish

?You learned the same lesson today with that

that I had caught the year before. There was no second

small fish today that you returned to the water. If you

guess, that was it, I just knew it, with the same cut in

would have kept it you would have been like the

the fin there on the tail fin. The fish had really grown.

woman and her children. By letting it go you gave it its

His silver scales had become a beautiful light pink

freedom and someday it will repay you.?

freckled by brown spots; his pearl belly had become

?How??

larger and stronger, he gave a good fight. The look in the fishes eyes as he struggled for a breath or water; was

?W hen you catch him again, and he is bigger, your mother will fix it up for you like you love so much.?

the same look that my father had in his eyes as he came closer to the end. I realized at that point that it was not fear that was in my father?s eyes, it was acceptance. The

?I do love it, don?t I??

fish was not fearing death in my hand, it was accepting what nature dealt him; just as I believe my father did himself. I did not keep the fish. I let him go just as I did

That was the last summer up at the cabin with

with my father.

my father. W hat my father was supposed to tell me that day when we went fishing was that he had cancer and

My uncle being my mother?s sibling did not

he only had a few months to live. I later found out from

understand the same concept about fishing as my father

my mother that he was sick when I began to notice

taught me. He caught a fish the same small size I had the

changes in him. He was not his usual self after that trip

year before. He wanted to keep it. I took out my father?s

to the cabin. His proud face became tired and wilted like

knife and cut the same cut in the same place on the fin

a fallen leaf. His smile became painful and forced and he

for my uncle and told him to let it go so he could catch

tried so desperately to keep his illness from me. But I

it next year. Then I told him the same story my father

could see it in his soulful loving eyes the pain he was

told me.

going through. Instead of telling me he was sick he told me the story of the crane that day at the stream, not for the purpose of teaching me about greed but to teach me how to let him go.

That next summer I went with my uncle and mom to that cabin. It was more difficult for them being up there. I took my uncle to mine and my father?s secret Akir a|30

Thanks to my father, I have learned to let many cranes go.

INFINITE LOVE Ava Armijo As I watch you grow, such love, everlasting love is how I love you.

Akir a|31

Creation Akir a|32

Joshua Brown

TIGER

Joseph Sanchez

Akir a|33

THE LARGE AND THE SMALL Sean Goodyear They sit on the desk All night and all day But which one is the best It?s hard to say.

The larger a veteran Having seen many marks Best used with indiscretion Before taking different parts.

The smaller is frail Reclused in its home Heals the smallest ails And must not be let roam.

So as they lay Among their scraps Quietly they wait For errors to entrap.

Akir a|34

HAIR OF FIRE I sabella Apodaca W hen the world collapsed, it was just me.

Everyone I had ever known had died and I was left all on my own. I was wandering the desert when I first saw her, she was the most beautiful thing I?d seen since the beginning of the apocalypse and I almost thought I was going crazy. Her hair was as red as fire and her eyes were blue like ice, so contradicting that it reeled me in.

She was running north, away from a raging storm and I was stuck staring at her intensity despite being miles away. It was a magnetic pull and she drew me so strong that I found myself following after her. Imagine that, me following a random stranger who didn?t even know my name. She was heading into a small town that for all I knew was abandoned and scavenged clean. Yet when I followed her she met up with a boy who couldn?t have been more than 3 years younger than us. She embraced him and gave him some food from her backpack, then they both went into a house nearby. I mimicked and stayed in the house across from them hoping to learn if they were accepting of outsiders. I fell asleep thinking of meeting her and what her voice would sound like.

W hen I awoke, I was distraught to find that they had left and I was again on my own. So I headed north hoping to change my luck and find people who would take me in. I realized as I walked by the side of the road that just months ago was bustling with cars, that I was not made for the end of the world and in fact, I was probably going to die. I hadn?t eaten in days and last night was the first in many that I actually slept. To be honest I wasn?t sure how I stayed alive this long but I was willing to take what I could get. Soon I found a store that had some food left, I scavenged up a bag of Doritos, a Twinkie, and a can of beans. I sat down behind the store and ate half the bag, the really stale Twinkie, and saved my beans for later. The food wasn?t

very filling but at least it was something and I don?t think I could have gone any more days without food. I fell asleep holding my stuffed bear named Broccoli, which was my last and only comfort in this dying world. That night I dreamt of the girl with hair on fire, she held my hand as we ran through the snow laughing and enjoying each other's company.

The next day, I woke abruptly to the sound of thunder as I realized that the storm had caught up with me. I packed my things up in a hurry and took off away from the death that was consuming everything. As I ran I couldn?t help but feel as if just accepting my fate would have been easier and that running was just delaying the inevitable. Then I saw the girl, perching on the mountain ahead of me as if urging me to ignore my instincts and come find her. She seemed to stare right through me, beckoning me with her cold eyes to follow her as she turned and left. W ith her departure, I could feel my body yearning to know her and moving faster despite running on fumes. I sprinted like I never had before, moving so fast it felt as if my feet were barely touching the ground. I couldn?t feel my breathing just staying alive by moving in her direction, and her energy was what kept me moving. As I reached the top of the mountain, I realized that she hadn?t left but walked into a building that was lit up like a Christmas tree and its music was blaring through the air. I slowed down and began walking cautiously toward the vibrant house, terrified but also intrigued. W hen I was close enough to touch it, I reached my hand out for the doorknob yet the door opened and behind it was the girl. ?Hi? was the first word she spoke to me and immediately I knew I had found my place in this world.

Akir a|35

LA FLOR Elizabeth Nunez ¿Dónde está su belleza? ¿Está en sus pétalos?¿Está en el tallo? ¿Está en las hojas o las espinas?

No la belleza está en lo profundo del brote esperando a ser sacada a la luz.

Akir a|36

Inclination ToDisorder

Maria Allocca

Akir a|37

WHY I LOVE READING Mark Robinson W hen I was in college, I realized that although I would laughing as Falstaff never misses a chance to use a never be a physicist or a mathematician, I would always double-entendre. love physics and math. In that same spirit, I offer some reflections below on my love for reading, even though I My sophomore year at Notre Dame taught me how to will never be a writer. read fast. In December of that year, my classmate and card-playing companion, Scottie Moran, asked I cannot remember when I learned to read. I remember Professor Leslie Martin, ?Are we really going to cover as a child, standing in the downstairs living room, The Once and Future King, A Connecticut Yankee in King looking at a book of Peanuts comic strips, and making Arthur?sCourt, and The Waste Land in the two weeks we up my own words for Charlie Brown and Lucy, because have left in the semester?? Dr. Martin turned, paused, I could not yet read the words of Charles Schultz. smiled, and simply said ?watch me.? I had never known fear in quite the same way. (Not even when I cold-called Anne McHenry for a homecoming date.)

In second grade, Scott Lubaroff made fun of me because Shmoop was not a thing in those days, so I read The my lips still moved when I read. (It was such a Once and Future King in two days, and A Connecticut breakthrough when I could read in my head, partly Yankeein one. In the midst of both, I finished A Time to because I could read faster, but mostly because I could Love and a Time to Die for my own enjoyment, much to shut him up.) That same year I remember reading the consternation of my roommate, Casimir Crist. about Margaret Bourke-W hite crawling on one the Casimir nearly lost his mind when he discovered I had aluminum eagles atop the Chrysler Building to take time for pleasure reading in the midst of his toil over pictures. I think that is when my love affair with the organic chemistry final. Although it meant reading really began. The author of the reading had skipping the daily card game in Pat Kearns?room for transported me to New York in the 1930s, in all its almost a week, I never regretted reading A Time to Love art-deco glory. In 1996, I finally traveled to New York and a Time to Die. The story of love and betrayal in the City and saw the Chrysler Building. But I had already midst of the barbarism of the W orld W ar II Russian been there dozens of times in my mind.

Campaign continues to haunt me.

Dan Gogerty deeply watered my love of reading in 7th grade English. Every Thursday, we did nothing but read books. I was a pig in [slop]. (Only later, when I became a teacher, did I realize that Mr. Gogerty had brought me joy by cutting his workload 20%. I aspire to become Dan Gogerty). My junior year in high school, Jack Kennedy had taught me to love Shakespeare; to love the richness and beauty of the language and the deep reflections on the human condition. My classmate Martin Wegner, on the other hand, taught me to find the dirty jokes that were not reproduced in the textbook. We would go to the library during lunch time to find the bawdy humor our textbook had cut out. By my seventh play, (?Henry IV part 2,?) I had overcome the Elizabethan language barrier, and was reading with joy-- rejoicing with Henry and Hal as they cheat their way to victory over their enemies, and

Akir a|38

I have been reading for almost fifty years. W hile these days I spend most of my time reading non-creative non-fiction (history, libertarian economics, mathematics), I thought this forum might prefer to hear about my greatest love in creative work. Being unable to focus (ADHD remains a thing), I?ll give you two.

In sixth grade, at my father?s recommendation, I read A Canticlefor Leibowitz. The novel is a reflection on a post nuclear-holocaust world in three vinginettes. My 11 year old brain could see some of the more obvious symbolism and themes, but most of it was going over my head. In 2015, some kind soul at the Loma Colorado Public Library put a well used paperback copy of the novel on the free book cart. (My children continue to make fun of my inability to resist a free

WHY I LOVE READING Mark Robinson book cart.) That fall, I read it again. This time, I understood W alter Miller?s description of the struggle between poverty and wealth, between knowledge and wisdom, and between political power and the common good. Miller raised troubling questions about the inevitability of nuclear destruction, about our failure to understand the mystery of human suffering, and about the value of human life in all its forms. The following spring, I read the profoundly disappointing sequel St. Liebowitz and the Wild Horse Woman, published after Miller?s death. The sequel has the nugget of a great story of how establishing order out of chaos is not a pretty sight; of how good things can be done with bad motives; and of how we must individually find our way through the chaos. But that beauty is buried under far too many words. (Much like this essay.) It seems to me that Miller knew the manuscript was not ready for publication, but his heirs could not resist another book for the estate. Or perhaps the sequel struggles as merely a good book in comparison to the greatness of the first.

Books mentioned in this essay:

My father was the inspiration for my other favorite book One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich. Almost every evening when I was small, my mother read to my brothers and me. But every now and then, my father would read instead. And occasionally, he would read a bit from One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich. Even as an eight year old, I knew this was a special book. It was the only time I heard my dad say the f-word out loud without my mother getting angry with him. In my sophomore year in high school, I finally read the novel.

Alexander Solzhenitsyn captures both the brutality of Joseph Stalin and the enduring humanity of those imprisoned by him. To my surprise, the book has everything to do with the obscenity of socialist totalitarianism, and nothing to do with the f-word.

Obscenity lies in the dehumanization of people, and not in the crude language of the zeks. My essay on the book became my ticket into the University of Notre Dame, and into its honors classes. Shukhov?s commitment to do a job correctly, even when no one is watching, even when everyone around you is cutting corners, remains the guiding principle in my professional life.

T. S. Eliot. TheWasteLand. New York: Boni & Liveright, 1922.

Carolyn Meyer. Girl with a Camera: Margaret Bourke-White, Photographer: A Novel. Calkins Creek, 2017. [This is not the selection I read in my second grade reader, but it gives you a feel for it. All I can remember about my second grade reader is that it had an orange cover, and that the picture of Margaret Bourke-W hite crawling out on the Chrysler Building?s eagles was terrifying]

T. H. W hite. TheOnceand FutureKing. New York: Berkley, 1972.

Mark Twain. A Connecticut YankeeIn King Arthur's Court. New York: Charles L. Webster & Co., 1889.

Erich Maria Remarque. Zeit zu leben und Zeit zu sterben [A TimetoLoveand a TimetoDie] New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Company, 1954.

W alter M. Miller, Jr. . A Canticlefor Leibowitz. Boston: Gregg Press, 1975.

W alter M Miller, Jr. Saint Leibowitz and theWild Horse Woman. New York : Bantam Books, 1997.

Alexander Solzhenitsyn. OneDay in theLifeof Ivan Denisovich. New York :Dutton & Co. Inc., 1963.

Akir a|39

"Self Portrait asan Old Desert Cowboy" Akir a|40

Robert W illits

CASCADING FALLS Jacob Moehn W hat would happen if the sun never rose again? Of course this sun would still exist but we would never see it. How would our lives be if we were shrouded in darkness? Well, it is a bleak thought. Living in darkness does not sound at all pleasant.

Having to walk around streets constantly lit up by fluorescent lighting would make our minds dull. Eventually the bright vibrant lights of major cities would succumb to the same boring fate. It would be as if hope itself was drowned out from the world. Each morning when we rise we see just a little bit of light. Even if it's a rainy morning or perfectly clear day, light returns. Now, there is no light. There is no reset anymore. It is just a relentless cycle that pushes everyone abused by it to the brink. Yet when we're at the brink, we try to look up and see a glimmer of hope. The hope is gone now, the brink is now a pounding waterfall. We all just cascade downwards into the darkness . . . This is not our reality however.

Each day the sun does rise each morning. A new day begins and new opportunities appear nearly everywhere. We do get to reset and have a chance to become even better with each new day. However sometimes people appear as if they don?t see the sun, the hope. Simply telling someone to be hopeful and look up won?t work. It is not that easy. We all need to help and show those around us that it is a new day and that everything will be okay.

May those cascading falls cease so that the water never flows to the darkness again.

Akir a|41

Spinal St enosis Ava Armijo Stolen lives, torn away Inside the cage; paint me like I am Shutter The awakening; the sun and her flowers

Akir a|42

Spinal Stenosis

Ava Armijo

Akir a|43

BLM

Akir a|44

Angelina Martinez

SOLFEGGIETO BY C.P.E BACH IN C MINOR Performed by Nicholas Pascuzzi

Akir a|45

DEAR CIERRA I sabella Clarke I rather like the way you say, ?I?m being facetious.?

And I have to remember that is a pretty way to say making fun.

I rather like the way you are kind in the quietest of ways, You do not watch me cry, you do not ask if I am okay when you know I?m not.

I rather like the way you scoff, ?Don?t look at me in that tone of voice.?

As if you can see my eyes when your back is turned.

I rather like the way you love your boots, I watch how you tie and retie the laces and rub off the dirt, W ith reverence not shown in Church.

I rather like the way you are honest with me, I hope it shows that you do not fear me as you might others.

I rather like and dislike the ways in which you are strong, You bear alone the things that would break me.

You shouldn?t have to.

Akir a|46

DEAR ISABELLA Cierra Sandoval My friend, you are often facetious However, I don't say it because it is pretty or delicate I say it because it is perfectly you A uniquely specific word that not everyone has the pleasure of knowing My friend, I do not watch you cry because I can not bear the sight of your tears I can not watch them streak your face when I know that there is nothing I can do to soothe your anxieties My friend, I can read you like my favorite novel. I do not have to turn the page to know what is coming next So when I hear the slight turn in your voice or the slight furrow in your brow I know the vast wheels of your mind are turning trying to comprehend what you have just heard My friend, my boots have walked through the depths of hell with me They have kept me safe and secure from the prying eyes of those who wish nothing more than to strap me to a stake and watch me burn They put a flame in my eye and guard the gate to my soul Allowing only the brave souls like you to peek behind the curtain and see the true me So yes I idolize my boots but not in vain For they make me see the light in the dark Oh, my dear friend, I could not fear you if you were a thousand feet tall with teeth sharp as knives For I trust you with my soul and I pray to all the gods above that you see that as a compliment rather than a burden And finally my dearest friend I admire that you see me as a warrior, however, there is a coward behind this metal armor and I need you to know that it is ok to bend and break, for you do not need to be strong But I will leave you with this it takes a mighty person to walk up to someone that terrifies them and make them family and it takes an even stronger person to wear the weight of their heart on their sleeve You are the strongest person that I've had the pleasure of knowing

Akir a|47

LIFE IN NEW MEXICO Rose Vigil Life in New Mexico is: Beautiful W ith sunrises and sunsets, Rainbow balloons against blue sky, Blue, purple, and red mountains.

Delicious W ith beans and rice, Chile and chicharones, All served with homemade tortillas.

Fun W ith the Corrales Harvest Fest, The annual Lavender Festival, And 5:30 am balloon glows.

Life in New Mexico truly is a dream.

Until the sniffles run into the state, W ith allergens in every corner, Cottonwood trees and tumbleweeds, Causing red, runny eyes and sneezing.

Except, We?re New Mexicans.

A few raw noses And itchy eyes can?t Dampen our fun.

Allergies may be annoying, Tiring, And painful at times.

But, They won?t win, No. We don?t let them take the prize.

Akir a|48

LIFE IN NEW MEXICO Rose Vigil

Instead, We wake up at 4 in the morning, Grab some tortillas and hot cocoa, And freeze our butts off as we ?Ooh?and ?aww?as the flag balloon Takes off.

We can?t wait for fall Harvest Fests, Nor the Christmas Parades.

We yell at our families to come outside when The sky turns pink and orange and blue.

We shamelessly take hundreds Of pictures of the hundred balloons Floating in front of the Sandias.

Yes, life in New Mexico is sniffly, But it?s also beautiful, Delicious, And fun.

And it?s a life I will never leave.

Akir a|49

Monarch Akir a|50

Maria Allocca

Lamanai Magic

Caroline Madrid

Akir a|51

? MISSED? Danny Pham Imagine the stars, twinkling their spectacle over thousands and millions of light years to other distant solar systems.

Their light shining bright like the people who keep others happy in our lives.

They seem to spread life and wonders to those who lack it. Giving sympathy to the lost. Love to the depressed.

Hope to the broken. They provide warmth and comfort, a refuge of both words and love, selflessly giving so that one day they may create yet another star and say, ?Look, it was worth it after all? ?

Stars creating stars. Turning into a cluster and eventually a whole new galaxy. Radiating warmth to all nebulas, creating a network of intricate, fragile beauty, that can only be possible through love.

Love may be abundant but its worth is undermined. For many take love and simply trade it off for something else.

But love simply cannot be traded, for it is a need. It is needed to develop. It allows growth in everything. In thought. In moral. And in soul.

After we trade it away we'll finally realize how much we miss it. The hole crumbles deeper and deeper into us until we realize the emptiness that we feel. For our light has to be restored.

But those who have traded it away so quickly do not know where to look. They quickly turn to those alike and ask them, ?W here is my love??but they all end up wasting their time, as the fire burns ever softly. But this flame eventually grows stronger, for it needs complete and honest love.

For some this is impossible. But for all this is achievable.

Akir a|52

WHAT WOULD I BE I sabella Clarke ?W hat would I be if I was? ?

My mother cuts me off with a scoff. ?You are a girl. Nothing more.

W hy does it matter??

Because, Mother, If I was something else, anything else, W ould you still recognize me?

If you caught sight of me between the trees, all fur and teeth and growl, W ould you be afraid?

If I was a syllable stuck on your tongue, W ould you swallow me?Or give me sound?

If I was a flower growing wild on the side of the road, W ould you dig me up and take me home?

If I was a song playing on the radio, W ould you sing along to my tune?

If I was a stranger who knocked upon your door, W ould you let me in?

If I was a wind howling above your head, Or a star in the night, Or a cloud on the horizon, W ould you raise a hand to greet me?

If I came to you in a form foreign and unfamiliar, W ould you still call my name?

Akir a|53

SNOW Brendan Salceies Moving spirits in winter breeze Flowing softly through the trees Gentle, cold, soft and white Bright and glowing under pale moonlight But in the morn will all unfreeze New as day but old as time Speak so loud but have no chime Unique, unbroken, held by cold Many stories, all untold Moving spirits so sublime

Akir a|54

OCEANSIDE Ava Armijo Brisk breeze, endless blue, happy hearts Fresh ocean air, soft sand in between toes, Savory ice cream scoops devoured while Strolling the boardwalk, amidst others Gathered together to experience a Similar happiness, the waft of churros Spread through the crowd, sights of seagulls, Commotion occurring below the thick Beams of wood holding you above the Crashing of the deep navy waves, God?s beautiful creations put to ease by The calm of waves each night.

Akir a|55

VOODOO DOLL Cierra Sandoval To whoever has my voodoo doll, Hi nice to meet you I mean I guess you know me But I?m 18 now and I feel like I deserve some answers. I mean it?s the least you can do since you never introduced yourself.

I guess I?ll get started 1. Are you a reckless person?

Because I never was yet my bones would break and crumble at the first sight of danger and I don?t know why but they would never quite heal. You?ve made me jump off buildings into pools of daggers without a second thought and I happily let you.

2. Are you a hopeless romantic?

I mean you must be. The way you pull my heartstrings so delicately, I mean you must have played the harpsichord in another life. I?ve never seen you but I can so vividly imagine you sitting down with my heart and pulling each string over and over making me trip over my own tongue.

3. Do you ever get lonely?

Have you cried yourself to sleep?Because I swear on a clear day I can feel the rain. I know at night you sing to me lulling me to sleep. You fill my head with stories and dreams.

The more I sit and think about it... the more I think about you, I realize how much you?ve taken care of me. I think you try to get me out of my box so I won?t be scared of what life has to offer so I won?t be scared of change. And as much as I hate the fall and the amount of times my heart has ached after you?ve finished your song I know that it has led me to where I am now. And maybe you do get lonely and that?s why you hold on to that old raggedy doll. Maybe it?s better I don?t know you. I don?t know your name or what you look like. Because maybe I?m not as ready as I thought I was so you know what I?m okay with being strangers for a little while longer.

Akir a|56

I Found theUniverse

Isabel Roddy

Akir a|57

". . . I haveloved thestarstoo fondly tobefearful of thenight." ? Sarah Williams Akir a|58

Shaman #3

Robert W illits Akir a|59

I DON'T WANT TRUTH Charla Smith I don?t want Truth.

Truth is sticky and uncomfortable.

It?s like being caught in a web, a trap that holds my feet to the fire and it burns and hurts so much that I?m aware of its realness and I cry out in agony because I no longer feel anything.

I can?t escape from truth.

It is forever and numbing and black.

The lie feels better.

It is freeing and hopeless.

It doesn?t force itself And lets me be what I want to be in the moment.

It has no responsibility? only pleasure and anxiousness.

The lie gives me purpose and boldness and freedom.

It reminds me that I?m alive.

Yes. Give me the lie over truth for at least a moment So I can be what I could have been, feel what I could have felt: passion, liberation, and tears.

Alas, I will always go back to what I was?

Entangled and restricted and moral.

Because, unfortunately, truth is inevitable.

Akir a|60

Dreamer

Angelina Martinez Akir a|61

WHY. Danny Pham The more I am given, the more I give to others. I try to be humble. I try to live by other moral standards. But I am a mere outcast. No home to belong in. There are people to call family, but never feeling the true heart of fitting in. Never feeling the warmth of true love and comforting hands. Never feeling true to myself or to others, but rather a shadow. A fake. A vortex sucking in everything good and leaving the world worse than it was without me.

I want help. But the help I want is selfish. The help that I want is stupid. The help I want is a waste of everyone?s time and efforts. So I try to help myself. W orldly desires.

Mindless tasks. Meaningless duties. So why do I continue?

To . . . make others happy. Or at least try. I don?t care if I lose the clothes that are on my back, the house that shelters me, the ability to come to what is called home, and perhaps even that of my own life. I want to make something so pathetic of myself as great and useful as it can be to others. I don?t care if I am sickly, poor, weak, disgraced.

At least the person I helped feels better. At least I helped change perhaps a sliver of a person so that they will not become me, feel like me, go through what I go through, or see things the way that I see it.

W hy?So that maybe one day they can go on with their lives, never looking back even once.

Akir a|62

I. THE DRIVE I sabella Clarke my mother?s hands shake as she asks, ?will you come?? i catch them between my own, and i nod. ?pack your black dress.? she does not look me in the eyes, i do not ask. we both know what this means, there is no reason to say it aloud. we drive past a great fire, it?s charcoal smoke curling up to choke the sky. we do not stop. we pause at a gas station. my mother stares at a bag of caramels, ?these are his favorite.? she buys them and we get back in the car. we endure dust storms so thick we cannot see. we do not stop. we pull over on the highway. my mother clutches the wheel and sobs. i do not know what to say, we get back on the road. we pass fields upon fields and rows upon rows of dead crops. we do not stop. when we are an hour away, my aunt texts me, howf ar away areyou?it doesn?t look good. my mother steps on the gas and says, ?tell her we?ll be there in 30 minutes.?

Akir a|63

II. THE FIRST NIGHT I sabella Clarke the first night passes like a vigil. there is a silence that covers the room, a calm that will break at dawn. no one is quite awake, but we are all too fearful of sleep, terrified the moment we let our eyelids drift close is the moment he stops breathing. the nurses come and go, like phantoms we refuse to acknowledge, never stopping, never pausing, never ceasing, but always, always asking, ?is there anything we can do?? the answer is always, always, ?no.?

Akir a|64

III. THE SECOND DAY I sabella Clarke the second day passes like a century. i greet the familiar darkness of 5 A.M. to drive my grandmother to the hospital. there, she sits by his side, and asks my mother, ?did i make the wrong choice?? my aunt brings four full photo albums. my cousins and i flip through them, asking the occasional question. granny always knows the answer.

Akir a|65

IV. HOW TO MOURN I sabella Clarke

i do not learn how to mourn. instead, i learn how to hold the crook of my mother?s arm when she leans back. as if to say, i?ll beherewhen you fall, i won?tlet you hit theground. instead, i learn how to sit so still that birds gather to chirp at my feet. instead, i learn how to tell people my grandfather is dead, and ignore the pity, wave away the worry, side step the sorry on their lips. did you kill him?no. then why areyou apologizing? instead, i learn how to be so quiet my family forgets i?m there. instead, i learn that there are a thousand ways to say someone has died. my cousins and i chant them over and over until it sounds natural. oh, yes, he?spassed on. six feet under. with theangelsnow. met hismaker. left us. instead, i learn how to sleep for two days straight. instead, i learn how to be numb, how to hold my breath, how to close my eyes and count to ten and smile and say, yeah, i?m okay. instead, i learn how to make my tongue forget his name. instead, i learn how to be the last one out, how to accommodate the silence when everyone else is gone, how to whisper, bye, pop-pop. loveyou. i do not learn how to mourn.

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V. A GIRL GAINS HER WOMANHOOD THROUGH DEATH I sabella Clarke tonight, there are five glasses instead of four, five chairs instead of four. my grandmother gestures to me, my mother nods, my aunts make room. i take my place at the table and the wine is poured. tonight, i have become a woman.

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Ashamed

Akir a|68

Angelina Martinez

I CANNOT WRITE WHAT I DO NOT FEEL Cierra Sandoval I cannot write what I do not feel And in some ways I think that described it perfectly You asked me to write you a sonnet Oozing with words of adoration and devotion But when I sat down to write it Nothing came out The love that once burned so bright we thought it would stay lit forever Has perished and all that is left is the ash of old teddy bears and polaroid pictures I don?t know when our flame extinguished It must have been one of the deafening blows to my patience Or maybe It could have been the windstorm of your pride I cried when I took down our pictures Each picture sent a pang of memories and pain I thought that was love That's what I've always been taught If things are bad you do not leave their side You support them So I took the abuse until all that was left of me was dust So I?m sorry that when I left And you asked me to write about you and our love as something beautiful yet tragic I couldn?t I couldn?t tell you I no longer feel I wasn?t able to feel anything And that described it perfect

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SECRETS Susanna L anucara ?I never loved her.? Nia knew it was a secret as soon as Rhys said it. It didn?t change anything. The two of them were still standing here, in this sterile room on the bottom floor of a hospital, looking each other in the eye as their worlds collapsed.

Rhys was still the one who had brought it all down. It was still Nia?s fault. ?You think that matters?? Nia asked. She meant to shout it, to scream until Rhys understood, but it came out as barely more than a whisper. A broken, stifled sound that did little to pierce the overwhelming silence. Her reward for her efforts was a vaguely confused look, a small shake of Rhys?head. ?W hat is this about, then??Somehow, Rhys truly didn?t understand. But then, Nia should have expected that. It had been that way since they were children, when Rhys would beat someone up after school for looking at her wrong, and if they did anything worse, Rhys wouldn?t stop there, continuing on to threaten them into giving Nia their lunch money, getting into the teachers?stuff to mess up their tests, sometimes leaning on their younger siblings to find a weakness. W hen Nia found out and confronted Rhys, she would get this exact same look in response. ?You?ll never understand.? Nia still couldn?t make her voice get any louder, and now tears were blurring her vision as she finally realized the truth. She wasn?t doing either of them any good by pretending not to know, not to see all the ways Rhys was sick. Had always been sick. Maybe always would be ? definitely, if she kept pretending. ?Look, Nia, I?m sorry, okay? I didn?t think ? I figured it was better than the other options.? ?You ruined someone?s life. And you don?t even care.? ?I--well, I didn?t mean to upset you! I swear, I?ll never do it again, okay?? A tear rolled down Nia?s face. ?No. You won?t.? Something flickered in Rhys?eyes. Fear, maybe? Hurt? Or that could be Nia projecting, and Rhys was simply puzzled. ?You?re--I know, I shouldn?t keep asking you, but you?re not going to tell anyone, right?? ?No,?Nia whispered, voice still treacherously weak. ?No, I won?t.?She prayed that Rhys couldn?t see it was a lie.

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THE SKY Jacob Moehn

Look above and see The sky that is falling It will not stop for you The rains will pour The sun will rise The moon will light up the night sky The stars will gleam with majesty And you will be left alone, on the ground W aiting for someone to say

Look above and see

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THE ONE THING THAT STAYS Monica Penn People come and go?

No one ever stays.

So tell me, how am I supposed to trust someone give them all of my attention ? emotion ? communication W hen in the end they?re just going to leave?

How can I rely on someone A soulmate, a friend, a family member W hen all I can think of is the sad inevitable goodbye.

The only thing I can rely on isn?t even alive.

The one thing I can trust to never leave.

Not human, not an animal, not a plant.

It?s something that is always there to give me light Through the sleepless nights, the dark cold mornings, and the quiet fiery sunsets.

In the most times of distress and even on the happiest of days, I can take one look at the sky.

The moon.

Tears flood my eyes.

A wave of peace and relief come upon me.

The sense of being connected to everything that I?ve lost.

Everyone that I?ve lost.

Because no matter what place or time zone, The moon that I'm looking at, is the same moon right there with them too.

Because no matter what they might be doing, The moon that I'm looking at, is the same moon right there with them too.

The only thing that doesn?t leave.

The one thing that stays.

The moon.

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La Luna (Spanish)

Monica Penn Monica Penn

A Lua (Portuguese)

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TheMoon

Monica Penn

Ka Mahina (Hawaiian)

Monica Penn

THE WOMAN IN THE SKY Maria Allocca There is a cold moon hanging in air over your head and mine.

She is transfixed by us, and the distance.

I am transfixed by her: you and she, the moon.

My hands rest over my heart, so I may listen to it beat, So I may count the breaths I take and the seconds in between; I ask for the moon to press her hands over my chest also, to feel it.

She does, she reaches down from the heavens, And she places one soft palm over the tremor that comes with each break between one heartbeat and the next.

I am made cold from her touch, but I relish it.

I ask her, the moon, to speak to me. I ask her to tell me what she?s seen, To share what she knows, to soothe me, or to worry me.

She remains only a light weight over my skin, a brushing finger.

The moon, her fingers twisted in mine, must have her hand on your heart, also.

I know because I begin to be comforted, without words, without reason.

I know because I can feel the softness of your breathing paralleled with mine, Despite the miles stretched out tiredly between our bodies.

And the woman in the sky no longer needs to share with me what her eyes see; I would rather hear the account some other way.

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BETTER DEVILS Nick Hanson I have better devils and better days, forget my troubles and my wicked ways, movin?through my life like I?m movin?through a maze, bullet in my chest, I know it?s not a graze, bleed out on the floor, the devils makin?plays.

Facin?all the pain, chased away the rain, bracin?for the storm, pain a deadly norm, we lookin? for relief in any form, solutions few and far between, they really have me torn, some effect your mental form, and others take your soul, wrath weighs heavy in the air, I know the devils scorn, from his hatred evil?s born, never endin?death, we livin?just to mourn, love is just a lie, I really could?ve sworn, I?m takin?time to mourn, can?t shake your deathly form, I?m feelin?so forlorn, left to wander sun or storm, death I shall adorn, he will take another form, overtaken by the wicked swarm, vanquish all my demons, I have them by their horns, they came to take my soul, they come in different forms, their power dark and old, the feelin?s oddly foreign, but never say I didn?t learn I really yearn for love.

I have better devils and better days, forget my troubles and my wicked ways, Movin?through my like I?m movin?through a maze, bullet in my chest, I know it?s not a graze, bleed out on the floor, the devils makin?plays.

Music in my ears, I?m holdin?back my fears, I wish away the tears, should?ve faced my fears, a reflection in the mirrors, I told you what I must, just to grind your gears, I?ll leave the rest to you, the best is what you do, be careful who you kill, too much pain I?ve had my fill, visions fade away, some are way too real, the ones that you can feel, never break the seal, and never make a deal, I?ve gotta broken soul the devil?s down to steal.

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FAKE FRIENDS Jackie Beckett W hy does she smile to your face, Then whisper to your back, She laughs with you, Then stabs you in the back, You never see it coming, She?s good as what she does, You will never see it coming, Cause she?s good at her fake facade.

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THE CABIN KNOWS NO FEARS Erica Olguin I step into the cabin, the floorboards creak

closet. In the center of the floor is the man?s body I saw

beneath my feet as if it pains them to bear my weight. It

earlier. Though this time, looking at it, it?s mutilated

wasn?t too long ago that I saw a man dragged into this

beyond recognition. The size and large stature of the

very space. His blood had made a path through the

body allows me to conclude that whoever the murderer

white glistening snow, onto the porch, and into the

is has my attention because this man would not have

cabin. Red splats dotted all through over the wooden

been easy to take down. Even I would have struggled in

panels at the edge of my shoes. Looking out from the

a fight with this dude and I am no easy target due to my

window from inside of the blood soaked cabin, I can see

experience training as a Special Forces officer within

three pairs of footprints leading into the cabin but none

the military.

leaving.

Assessing the room, my goal is to find a hidden

About four hours ago I had been hiking a path

alternative route out and at that moment I felt a shift in

which had happened to have had a viewpoint of the

the structure underneath and knew instantly that they

cabin from up above. I had seen the dead body of a man

had never left. They are still here underneath me, in

dragged into the cabin. I was left with few options

what I could only assume was a basement below. I smile

because phones don?t work up in the mountains and I?m

as my hands and fingers run the length of one of the

not the kind of person to just let things be, so I made

walls feeling for a draft. Finding the board I?m looking

the decision to ?involve myself."

for I lift a piece of the wall which was cut in the size of a

I had waited a while for the people that had

small door with a hole in the ground and a ladder

gone into the cabin to come out but they never did so

heading down. I brace myself on each side of the hole

here I am in the place where some sadistic people killed

and move the board back into place and I slide down

a man, but fearful? That I am proud to say that I am

the ladder making sure not to make a sound. W ithin

not. Never have been and never will be. It's medical. A

the mere seconds it took to climb down I began to take

condition called Urbach-W iethe which practically

note of the voices suddenly apparent now that I am

means I can?t feel fear so yes, I may be stupid for

now feet away from the people who had killed the man

walking into a bloodly place with murders but at least I

in the cabin above. They talk in hushed tones but I

am not scared. Maybe I?m the sadistic one? Nah, never

distinctly make out three voices: two girls and one man.

mind I would never kill anyone. Well maybe for self

The second my toes touch the floor the voices have

defense but that's different it's not like I enjoy hurting

gone silent. I hold my breath but then a pair of hands

people.

pulls me to the floor and my instincts take over, bless Sargent Harold who had made my training a living hell The layout consists of an empty room, a closet

sized bathroom, and a pantry that also doubles as a

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but gave me my fast reflexes, because I barely had time to parry and avoid the knife that came slashing at my

THE CABIN KNOWS NO FEARS Erica Olguin face. I have no clue who these people are but they easily

black kohl lining her violet eyes. She stood barely five

match my skill and though I knew from the body

foot three. Small as she is that didn?t change my

upstairs that they were capable I never expected the

perspective. Knowing she?s more than capable by the

next moment when my body was on the ground and

way Marcus winced when he saw her frown gave me

the knife held to my throat. Mocking applause erupted

chills. I was good at spotting fear and knowing that the

from the two girls who had silently watched the fight as

man who triumphed in a brawl with me was afraid of

though they both knew from the beginning that this

this girl left me no doubt. She was the one who mutated

man could take me.

the body upstairs and that it is she who leads this group

?Such will he has don?t you think, Marcus??

of trained murders.

The man with the knife to my throat's (whom I assume

?W hat?s your name, soldier?? She batted her

to be Marcus) mouth turns up in a giddy grin as I still

eyes at me as though she was a girl at a pub looking for

struggle to break free.

some flirtation.

?Definitely has something, though will? I don?t know, I prefer to think of it as stupidity,? Marcus growls out with his teeth baring a smile.

Marcus who was currently tying me up snickered. ?You fight like a military brat.?

W hen I refuse to respond she calls to the silent

?Tie him. I?m curious to see as to when he?ll

girl in the shadows. ?Ivana? If you please.? Ivana steps

realize that he has been bested.? There is amusement

into the light and I couldn't help but to notice that the

within her voice and that?s when I realized this is her

two girls look like sisters. Only that this girl's hair is

idea of fun. These people really are sadists. Clever and

clipped short with bangs in a Taylor Swift kind of bob

skilled sadists that have me outnumbered three to one

but in the color of blood red that matched a pair of

in a basement in the middle of the mountains. My body

gleaming red eyes. Ivana takes out a rusty blade that

slumps with disappointment. I should have been more

was hidden inside her boots.

cautious. The girl finally comes into my view as she looks over Marcus?s shoulder to look at me.

?W ant to reconsider??She says it again in a way like we were still at the imaginary pub and I had

?Look at that guys! Isn?t he a good boy? He

declined her offer to take her home. I smile but don?t

knows when to listen or maybe he?s smarter than you

speak which has her in my face in half a second, the

think Marcus or maybe,? she drew out the last word,

blade pressing between my ribs; one thrust and it would

?he just listens to reason when I speak.? Marcus huffs

be in my heart. Her eyes scan my face and she sits on

and the girl frowns at him. She has long black pin

my lap and whispers into my ear. Curiosity and

straight hair that cascades down her back almost

frustration line her words, ?W hy are you not afraid??

reaching the back of her knees. Skin like glass with

?I guess I just lack the capacity to,?I smirk.

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THE CABIN KNOWS NO FEARS Erica Ogluin ?Well if I can?t make you feel afraid then I?ll just have to make sure you feel the pain.? W ith that she looks up at her two companions who seem half bored but nonetheless hand the violet eyed girl the dull rusty blade she asked for before plunging into my gut and twisting. A flash comes to my mind. The man upstairs.

He had the same wound that the girl had just given me and I knew. I was going to die the same heartless death by the same hands. The beautiful demon before me kept her promise. I felt no fear but the pain made me wish for the first time in my life that I did, so that maybe, I wouldn?t have left another trail of footprints in the snow that wouldn't ever leave.

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THE WATCHED POT I sabella Clarke My mother has asked me to watch the pot And it is hailing outside, And the police scanner is blaring, And something is banging outside, And? No, no. Let me start again.

My mother has asked me to watch the pot, And the rain is coming down in sheets of white, And the door is open but I can?t find the key, And the wrought iron is banging against the house, And? Let me start again.

My mother has asked me to watch the pot, And the wind is howling, And the wind is howling, And the police scanner is screaming, And I don?t know where my mother is, And? The pot boils over.

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OF FALLEN STARS AND GIRLS NOT QUITE LIVING I sabella Clarke Do the shining stars get lonely and cold up there?

Do they weep in silence and pray to fall down to us as we sleep?

I think they do.

For last night, a fallen star knocked upon my door And I let him in.

(I have a bad habit of letting strange, lonely people in.

Just ask Death.)

He laid down in my bed And asked me to tell him a tale to pass the time.

So I held his hand in the dark And whispered of the people who came before W ho searched and built and fought and sung and danced and loved and died He asked, ?W hy do you speak to me of dead men, long gone??

And I answered, ?Aren?t we all dead, in the end??

He reached to touch my face and his fingers burned, ?You are not dead. Tell me of you.?

I paused but thought What could betheharm?

He was but a star and I, a girl not quite dead yet, and tonight there was nothing but shadows and sound to keep us company.

What could betheharm?

So I told him of the things that made me me Of the tears that I had cried and the doubts that plagued me and the loneliness that ached in my bones And I told him of the people I could not help but love fiercely (After all, is there any other way to love?)

And the hurt I had caused them with these hands and this mouth And the things that I had seen and dreamed and the words I wished I had said.

He laughed, ?How wonderful it must be to be human.?

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OF FALLEN STARS AND GIRLS NOT QUITE LIVING I sabella Clarke I rebuked him, ?How terrible. To not be dead, yet.?

He turned the pits of light that were his eyes to me, and said sadly, ?Do you truly wish to be dead that badly?? ?Do you not?? ?No, I wish to be human. For you see, I have forever and yet, feel nothing. But you, you have no time and feel everything. And somehow, we are made of the same things.?

And I asked him what he meant and he told a story of his own, He said that when this had all begun, one great thing decided to exist and caused other things to exist and all of us, all the stars, fallen or not, and the people, dead or not quite, and the trees and the heavens and the earth, were all made from those things. ?How wonderful it must be to be a star,?I sighed, ?to know so much.? ?How terrible,?he replied.

And we spoke no more that night, For there was no more to say.

He cried and I held his luminous body in the dark.

And when I awoke this morning, he was gone W ith nothing but the char of my sheets and the flaring marks on my skin where his legs and arms had been To speak of his existence.

Do the shining stars get lonely and cold up there?

Do they weep in silence and pray to fall down to us as we sleep?

I think they do.

For last night, I held a fallen star in my arms, And whispered to him tales of dead men and girls not quite living, And all we were were two lonely fragments of star dust colliding.

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Ang Buwan (Tagalog)

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Monica Penn

CAPITALIST CAPRI SUN Cierra Sandoval I do not know how to talk to you In fact I question whether I should even reach out You say we are friends and that you appreciate me (In truth you have never actually said those words but that's okay because I know you do not express your feelings in the way I do) Yet, the question always gnaws at me ?Is it the truth??

We are able to speak to each other in a way that I am not able to speak to anyone else All sarcasm and truth Not an ounce of judgment in your eyes Yet, I still get scared That you do this because you are not a mean person You do not have ice that encompasses your soul So when I get in my head and I just need your reassurance telling me it isn?t an act of charity To be my friend That my company isn?t a burden on you And when I asked you why areyou my friend and you say ?Well, you do half of the homework?

I do not know whether to laugh or cry Because I know that you are joking but I can't help but to think of it every time I speak with you now You say you have never had a friend like me and when I ask well whoareyour friends I am somehow always excluded and you say that is a given But I just don?t know So when I say that I have learned to love you, and crave your friendship I mean it from the depths of my soul However, I fear that you do not know how to love another human And frankly that is all I know how to do Akir a|85

MONSTERS Madison Davis The stark walls talk, Of an elusive sight, Of piercing red eyes, Glowing in moonlight.

W ith silver sharp claws, The pale glow sings, They cut through bone and flesh, They?re such haunting things.

They will come from the ground, Ribs worn through their skin, They?ll crawl through the grass, Monsters hungry and thin.

Go to sleep children, And bundle up tight, For the demons eat the babies, W ho are out of bed at night.

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THE GHOST IS CHASING ME Rose Vigil The ghost is chasing me. He?s running as I run, stopping when I stop, panting when I pant. And then I start running and start the cycle over again.

It?s a never ending loop I can?t seem to break from.

I?m sweating and my lungs burn; my legs ache and my feet scream as they pound against the rocky terrain.

My shoulders feel as though they are being pulled out of my body as I increase my speed, trying to get rid of the ghost following me. But I can?t escape.

I decide to let him get me because I am done running.

And then he got me. But it isn?t a he.

No, it is a she, and even more terrifying, she is me. Then I scream, and so did she.

Mid scream the dream was broken, and I was free.

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Self Portrait asan Old Starving Artist with Trafficand T.S. Akir a|88

Robert W illits

COUNTDOWN Susanna L anucara 8 Davis knew that sound the second it started. The subtle rhythm of beeps, just beginning to be interspersed with numbers. Bianco?s own personal countdown, though why he started from 8 Davis would never know. Bianco. He scoffed at the thought. They both knew perfectly well that wasn?t his real name. He?d done the exact reverse of what immigrants had done in ages past, translating his English-sounding last name to one that would fit in with his new gang. Literal gang, this time around.

Bianco?s eyes darkened.

5 ?You know,?Bianco said, still reclining casually against the wall, ?I used to always think you were the one who changed.

Became a self-righteous perfectionist when you used to understand. But now? maybe you?ve always been like this, and it?s me? ?He trailed off, staring somewhere past Davis?head.

For a moment, Davis could almost recognize him--something appeared in his eyes, it might have been regret--but then Bianco snapped his gaze back to Davis?face and chuckled, and Davis remembered that no, this was not the boy he?d grown up with. This was not his friend, but a dangerous criminal, and he had a duty to uphold.

?It?s not just some gang, Detroit. But you can?t seem to get that.?

Had Davis spoken aloud?He didn?t think so.

7 It didn?t matter. ?Don?t call me that.?Bianco smiled, and part of Davis flinched, recognizing that expression from better days. The bitterness that had always shown through when Bianco?s family was brought up. He?d usually cover it up quickly then, as he was doing now, and follow it with a laugh. Don?t worry about it, Detroit. You?remoremy family than them, anyway.

6 The laugh followed, as expected, but this time, it was mocking. ?No?W hat, then, DetectiveInspector Ford Davis??Davis?jaw clenched. ?That?ll do. Christian Bianco.?He couldn?t manage it the way Bianco did, couldn?t make a simple name into a slap in the face. Bianco recognized this, and he laughed again. ?Pathetic. You?re pathetic, you know that??He shook his head and leaned back against the cement wall.

4 They didn?t speak. Davis wasn?t sure how much longer he could stay like this. He?d have to make a choice soon--shoot, run ? or surrender. W hatever his choice, he was letting go of something--if he could. If he couldn?t, he still would be. There was no way he would survive doing nothing.

Neither of them spoke a word until the countdown blared again.

3 ?You?re running out of time.?Davis didn?t bother answering. ?W hat?s it gonna be, then? Both of us taken out in a blaze of glory?Admitting I?m right?Or doing what you always do??

Davis blinked. ?W hat?s that supposed to mean??The silence dragged on.

Davis tensed, his muscles deciding before his brain could admit it.

2 Bianco was getting nervous. He hid it well, but Davis could see it in the slight fidgeting of his fingers and roaming of his eyes.

He didn?t want to die here. But he wasn?t bluffing, either--if Davis didn?t choose, he would blow this place up with both of them in it. Bianco never bluffed. Never. So Davis had to choose, now, or--

?You sure you wanna insult the man with a gun??Bianco raised an eyebrow. ?Sure. I?m the man with the building set to blow up unless I stop it.?Davis shook his head in frustration. Therehastobe someway...

1 He ran.

And though he didn?t look back, he knew Bianco did the same.

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FROM PLACE TO PLACE Amanda Garcia From place to place I roam From endless sprawling fields of grass To gleaming cities, skyscrapers, glass From the finest polished marble floors To the splintered wooden floor eyesore From stability, comfort, class To disdain, dried coffee stains, Dirty door knobs, sagging houses Same faces shrouded In sadness, for they all roam From place to place like me Dreaming of a place to know A friend to call A talent to show From house to home Dreaming of a place to call their own

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THE WIND Cierra Sandoval W hy can I open up to you?

You are merely a boy You belong to the wind for it carries you through the night So how naive I must be to think that you belonged to me Even for a short while Oh darling My past life whispers your name Her breathy voice sends shivers down my spine As she lingers on the syllables She shows me your strong callused hands intertwined with mine But in my heart I know that you have never held me And that you never will For you live along the wind And maybe that's why sometimes late at night can hear you calling my name Urging me to follow you into the darkness But dear I am no wanderer I can never leave this place of comfort So tell me how do I forget the boy of the wind?

How do I drown out the call the echoes through the night Even when it has been years since I've found comfort in your smile You still find your way back I do not know why I open up Maybe I find that it is easier to whisper my secrets into the wind But that does not change the fact that you are just a boy And you should not have the power To know me the way that you do Akir a|91

Let Down Your Hair Akir a|92

Isabel Roddy

GIRL IN THE MIRROR Cierra Sandoval I sleep with my mirror facing the wall Because I fear the girl who lives inside I'm terrified she will catch me off guard one day W hen I just wake up or when I am walking down the hall She calls out to me and I can't help but wince at the sound of her voice She points and laughs and it takes everything I have not to cry My mother makes me try on dresses and I can?t help but choke I stand in the room while she stares at me and all I want is to shrink down and scream but my throat tightens As I hand her the dress and tell her it doesn't fit At all I couldn't even get the zipper closed And all at once I feel so lost and so stupid W hen ask the employee and she smirks as she says they don't carry a bigger size W hen the largest size they carry online is a size 8 Tell me how am I supposed to love the girl in the mirror W hen have to find a dress for my pictures and the girl in the mirror shows me how my skin spills out of it and all want is to disappear into my sweatshirt and pray it swallows me whole Only for them to bring out an endless array of brightly colored ill fitting dresses so can look like every other girl with their seamless poses and gorgeous confident smile W hile the girl watches as stiffen too scared to tell the truth And I know I can't let her get under my skin But then I have to remember it is her skin too I sleep with my mirror facing the wall For I fear the girl in the mirror And I know one day she will be the death of me

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THAT INNOCENT O NE Emily Valdez I?m in love.

W ith every little motion The soft crease in between the eyebrows Shoulders steadily moving all the time Feeling the innocence in the things said And the things unsaid but screamed so loud Those little things so simple So insignificant But they changed The summer sun melted the mask of innocence And the fall gusts blew away the remaining The walls were brought down And it was laid bare The burned and stained remnant Those white clear cut lines and boundaries Now black and blue Broken and cracked without warning The smoke replaced the steady breathing The warm laugh turned to a drunk giggle That crease once caused by confusion Once was so beautiful and innocent Now caused by pain and abandonment That little innocence in me Now just going through the motions An actor in an infinite play Trying to run from my mistakes Running from the dirty, cold guilt Tripping back and falling into it Laying in bed Alone with my thoughts The silence and darkness is too much I?m suffocating.

Becomes too much Akir a|94

THAT INNOCENT ONE Emily Valdez

I want to remember W hat the life I lived was.

W ho that girl was W hat happened to her?

That innocence in her soul The one that she clung to for so long Too tight, too long

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TheRainbow InsideusAll Akir a|96

Maddy Morrow

COINS Gracie Cooper Hide and seeking he sought it out Small golden coins flash like s t a r s upon ?eyes?, Bright RUBIES sit in pretty iris? and rest in ((ears.))

Br e a t h has become weak and s l o w, His chest no longer ~m~o~v~e~s, The eternal rest, he swore he did his best, But what is enough?

He shall not know.

Dull blue rivers and c ol d, skeletal hands? ? -( ) ? ? ? -Reach out to carry him home.

The River Styx shall never end, For the end is not for him to know.

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From TheHeart Akir a|98

Angelina Martinez

Lion

Matthew Cornelius Akir a|99

OLD FRIENDS, OR MAYBE NOT Maria Allocca It is at night, And it is sitting at the foot of my bed.

Shoulder to shoulder, Like old friends (or just companions in misery) We hunch over, shadows.

If it would speak to me, I know it would say something to match the look in its eyes: ?Hey, Long timenosee... ...or maybenot solong.?

But it won?t speak.

And I won?t either.

We know each other too well to mark this night up with such empty words of greeting.

We were (are?) too close to bother with being polite.

W hat would I say, anyway? ?Hey, I washoping you wouldn?treturn, But I guessI forgot theway you makeyourself at home, here.?

W hat would we talk about? ?Remember that night when we?? ?Or thetimeyou?? ?Remember when you thought you?d gotten rid of me??

No. Instead of speaking, I break.

And we fall back into the old pattern; The one where I open my arms and it crawls into my chest And settles there.

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OLD FRIENDS, OR MAYBE NOT Maria Allocca

The one where I curl up into a ball, And do not cry.

The one where the night becomes too long, And the weight on my chest, too heavy.

I wonder if it will leave me in the morning on its own.

Because even though my breaths come slow and shallow, Some part of me (the part of me that is cold and tired and alone) hopes it won?t.

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ANOTHER CHEESY POEM James L ovato

?As I wake, your face is the 1st thing I see, tortured by the thoughts of what we can be.

The 1st time I?ve seen love, the last I'll ever need.

Every day that passes my admiration grows, my self esteem reaches new lows.

W aiting to be free from these chains,

Body

Your beauty is what fuels my veins I just wanna grow old with you, make the most with you, Please don't go.?

Author Author Author Author Author Author Author Author Author Author Author Author Author

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y text

DOOR TO . . .

Aidan DuBois ?W hat a pain,? Alison thought as she grabbed her dog's blue leash and lazily clipped it to his collar.

Alison had to walk her dog Danny every day, and although she knew he enjoyed them, she did not. It was getting to the time of year where it was cold enough to need a sweater in the morning but after you got moving, you quickly overheated, then you were stuck walking with a leash in one hand and a limp sweater in the other, which was not very comfortable. But she didn't do it for herself, she did it for Danny, the only one who had not deserted her in the past few years. But even he was starting to get old. He was turning six that year, but he was still in excellent shape for an older dog, which gave Alison the little bit of pride she needed to pull through her long arduous days.

It was night time, precisely 3 am and the door in the woods opened. The gangled man, as he had come to be known, emerged from the doorway into the night.

One long, 4 foot spider-like limb after the other emerged from the doorway. Being all black made it hard to spot him, except for his face, which was distorted and pale. He did not like that girl going through his door. He started making his way to the glowing light in the distance. Her door. He would go in it. As he approached, he bent down to look in the peephole. He didn't like how she did not knock or look through his peephole. He reached for the doorknob, but then the sun started to rise. He would try tomorrow.

After all, the nights were getting longer and he could wait.

She was used to hearing birds and squirrels when she went on her walks; after all she lived right next to an acre or two of forested area, which she had come to know quite well. However, today seemed different. There were no animal movements, however she could still see them. They were doing their best to hide in the trees; however her highly trained eyes could spot them fine. Another thing that was odd was the door. As she rounded the last corner of the trail she had made over the years, there was a door right at the bend where the path would start to loop back. It was an old black-oak door with a brass handle. It was getting to the point where she was getting hot, as the sun was reflecting off of the previous night's small snow fall, creating a harsh bright light that was none too pleasant to look at.

The door being there was very strange. ?Probably those McArthur kids that live on the other side of the woods. Maybe they are starting to build a fort, but why start with the door??She started to approach it. Danny was for the first time not willing to go any further, and instead of going past the door, looped around in a 20 foot arc to get to the other side of the path. As Alison approached the door, an uneasy sense of dread took her over. Her heartbeat quickened and her breath became shaky, but she had been through too much in life. A door could and would not stop her.

She reached for the door handle and yanked it open.

The sense of dread dissipated and she walked through.

The birds started chirping and Danny returned to her side and she wondered only a little the following day: what was with that door?

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SELECTIVE SERVICE Neil Silver Captive in deep grass, on knees hands bound, he waited his turn.

A patrol found his shell and the small black hole in the back of his head where they?d let out all the light.

Then a captain rang the door chime and his mother screamed?

Tell me he?s wounded please God, tell me he?s hurt. ?Now: this skull?too ?hath lien i?the earth Three-and-twenty years? and though the bones of ancients may call to mind our common end, ?Alas?she dreams a hole no bigger than a dime and with her index finger tries to keep the light from spilling out

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FAILURE Susanna L anucara Failure.

Ash tried not to listen, to push the voice away, but it wouldn?t shut up, not anymore. And why should it? It was right. Maybe before she could have tried to argue with it, but now? That would just prove her a liar as well.

Which you are.

Well. Any argument would, once again, prove it right. She could at least be honest about this.

Only with yourself.

She sighed, leaning back and running a hand through her short-chopped hair. There was no point even considering her responses to the voice. After all, what defense could she make? She?d had one job, one duty, one thing to excel at- and she had failed. Miserably.

Worthless.

She actually flinched at that- but at least there was no one in the apartment with her to comment on it. Hard to say anything to that, either. If it had been suggested before she could always dismiss it, pointing out that she was one of the best bodyguards in the country, and she could hardly be worthless when she was so good at protecting people, could she? Now all that thought earned her was a bitter smile.

Somebodyguard you turned out tobe, failing at your most important job.

True, it hadn?t been a jobin the strictest sense. It might not even impact her business, depending on whether word spread- which it shouldn?t. She?d been in disguise, and James had said he wasn?t planning on using the information to ruin her life. By life, he?d meant job, because that was what he?d always thought her life was, what everyone still thought her life was. No one considered that maybe her life had already been ruined.

You let her die. You sat thereand you let Rosedie.

Ash curled into herself, hands clutching her hair, and began to cry. She hadn?t cried in? a long time, to say the least. She?d never been prone to shows of emotion like that. Maybe that was why everyone thought she had none. She didn?t even want to offer a defense to that one. It didn?t matter that she?d been shot and unable to move- she?d been trained, she could have donebetter. She thought of the teenager?s sweet face and clever eyes. Her surprised laugh the first time Ash had offered a wisecrack to her. Ash never usually spoke such things aloud, but something about her niece had made her let her guard down. Rose was so innocent- but perceptive as well, enough to be the only person to really recognize that Ash was more than some protection robot who had less empathy than your average rock. All Ash had needed to do was protect her, make sure the threats never came true, not get caught by surprise. It was the only thing James had ever asked of her. It was the only thing she?d ever cared about doing in itself, and not just for the benefits. The only thing that mattered? and now her greatest failure.

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THE TYPE OF PEOPLE WHO FIGHT Aidan DuBois ?Thank you for choosing Freddy?s order whenever you?re ready.? He had said this at least a hundred times today, and he often compared that to being an NPC in a video game. Always says the same set of pre-programmed lines. However, he was getting paid to say them so he couldn?t really complain.

over some stupid crap?

?Yeah, can I just have complimentary water?

Thanks. ?

?Oh my God he?s an idiot,? I thought to myself. ?My stupid manager just told someone to come fight him inside.?

?Yeah no problem. Anything else for you?? ?No that's it.? ?Ok that will be ready for you at the window.?

The complimentary water was free, and Aidan was more than a little bit annoyed that someone took all the trouble to pull into Freddy's, taking up a space in the drive through, for something you could literally pour at home for next to nothing. Heck, it was probably cheaper to just get water from home, you save some gas! W hen he finally got to the window all hell broke loose.

One hour earlier we were packed to the brim with customers, or as management requires us to call them, guests. ?Hey Owen! Took you long enough to get here, you're like an hour late!? ?Yeah I forgot I worked today but I?m here now!? ?Pfff you don?t even have non slip shoes on bro.? ?I know, I know,?he said ?Owen, please come to the office.? It was Mike, the worst of all the managers. I figured Owen was getting written up for being late and not being in dress code but I had no idea what was about to happen. ?I quit this awful place!? Owen yelled as he walked out of the office, then out of the store. Mike calmly stayed in his office and pulled up his page and marked his status as unemployed.

As the guy drove up to the window, we were about to ask if he had the water, when he immediately asked to see the manager. ?Hey, how can I help you?? ?I don?t appreciate you firing my little brother Akir a|106

?Hey man if you're just here to complain get out of here.? ?W hat you trying to meet me outside?? ?Yeah yeah come on in I'll be waiting.?

As the door opened and Owen and his brother walked in, my manager slunk off into the office. Hiding from the problems he caused. ?W here is that jerk at? Hey I'm here to fight your stupid manager.? ?Ok Mark let?s just go,?Owen asked softly.

Mark and Owen left the store and drove away. And they didn?t even get the complimentary water.

Au

SOCIETY STANDARDS Jackie Beckett Be yourself, Do you, Wear your clothes, Do your hair, But do it our way, Wear this though, Act this way, Do what we want, Do you understand?

uthor

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New MexicoSunset Akir a|108

Jude Jenkins

GRINDING METAL Cierra Sandoval My car sounds like it is on the verge of death As if it is fighting a war Or going through a trash compactor The metal grinds against itself shrieking out in pain And when I first heard it It sent a shiver down my spine and Made the roaring of music turn into nothing but a whisper But now I have learned to find the comfort in it Hearing the scratching and clawing and knowing it is for once not coming from inside I've learned W hen you hear the monster outside it lessens the fear of what we can not see I think that is what made it so beautiful Now, I no longer play my music It no longer screams at deafening levels

Aut

Threatening to blow my speakers Instead I sit in silence and listen to that metallic scrape And if it happens to break completely I will not cry because at least I know that with my car It is one of the few things capable of being fixed So I must find comfort in it while I can For soon it will no longer be there And I will be left with the old familiar scrape of something I know will never be fixed

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THE DREAM I sabella Apodaca I?m running but my feet aren?t touching the

The sound of my scream wakes me from

ground. I?m breathing but no air is coming out. All I

another dream. I jolt up in bed and immediately jump

know is that someone is chasing me and if I stop

out to run to the bathroom. As I approach the familiar

running they will catch me and possibly kill me. I

bathroom, I slow and begin to feel the dread set in. I?m

continue running, not winded but desperate to go

scared to see my face, yet desperate to know if what I?d

faster. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my

just experienced was real. I turn the corner and open

veins and the fear calling me to vomit. I hear their steps

my eyes to reveal that my face is just fine. My nose is in

behind me, them breathing down my neck, reaching

the right place and my eyes are the right size and my

out to grab me. Yet when I glance behind me no one is

cheekbones are once again covered in clear skin. I

there; I continue running because my body can?t let me

breathe a sigh of relief and finally can recognize that

stop. The fear has taken over and I am no longer in

this is not a dream. I hear my sister and my mom

control. All of a sudden I trip and I?m falling, and

talking and laughing downstairs. I remember that today

falling, and falling?

is Saturday and I was allowed to sleep in. I get dressed

Then I wake up, in bed, drenched in sweat,

in the outfit that I had laid out the night before, finally

shaking from the fear. I still feel like I?m falling and

ready to start the day and forget the horrific night

when I try to sit up I become dizzy. That dream was so

before. I walk down the stairs and smell the amazing

real, and the sweat is. I finally can calm down, and take

bacon and pancakes that my family must have made for

a deep breath, realizing that I am okay and safe. I start

me. As I turn the corner into the kitchen I see my mom

my normal morning routine by brushing my teeth and

working at the stove and my sister sitting at the dining

washing my face. It feels so refreshing to have the cold

room table. But as I walk further into the room,

water splashing on my face. The perfect start to my

something feels off. The clothes that have fit my

already terrible day. I stand up from being bent over the

mother and sister perfectly before now hang from their

sink and grab my towel to pat my face dry. The warmth

bodies and their hair is thin, unlike the care that they

of the towel soothes my nerves. But when I look up to

normally put in. I reach the dining table and they both

the mirror my face is dissolving, slowly running down

turn to reveal their now skeletonized faces, and eerie

my face. My clear perky skin is now sagging down and

smiles staring at me. I freak out, turn to flee, and run

my eye sockets are slowly getting bigger. I try frantically

right into the bookshelf?

to push it back up but it just continues to slide like jelly.

I start to panic as my skin begins to fall onto the sink and my true face is revealed. Mushy muscles and the pale white bone that highlights my once covered cheekbones. I scream...

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I wake up, wait did I?

HEART OF GOLD Nick Hanson Weigh me down my thoughts of old, carry ?round my heart of gold, never cocky never bold, get me hooked you have me sold, take control and never fold, chains of led and chains of gold, they weigh me down, can?t shake their hold, I have this hole burned in my soul, the void so empty and freezing cold, Gave me gold but never paid the price, gave me love and told me lies, said your heart cannot match mine, she said oh baby, why you?re so fine, can?t describe how much I hate that line, feel like love has had its time, act like love is such a crime, feel it?s worth is less than mine, leaves me sour like a lime, watch your step, don?t cross the line, no more dates don?t waste my time, you live on lies, I heave great sighs, I know your heart was never mine, a note was all you left behind, your attention always such a grind, I hoped that love was all I?d find, but now I?ve left that all behind, now I look for peace of mind, you broke my heart, I lost my mind, I?ll burn her stuff and she won?t mind, she was troubled, crossed the line, break my heart and pay a fine. Tell me love was just a lie, tell me why I?m still alive, in deep water, took a dive, to clear my mind I?ll take a drive, call my phone I?m on your mind, you fooled me once now I?m a clown, I?m in too deep I?m gonna drown, I?m drowned in shadow from on high, I?m crowned with light to rend the sky, Smoke fills my lungs, might just die, live too long you learn to fly, live alone you don?t ask why. That love you had you wish had died.

Weigh me down my thoughts of old, carry ?round my heart of gold, I?m never cocky never bold, get me hooked you have me sold, take control and never fold, chains of led and chains of gold, they weigh me down, can?t shake their hold, I have this hole burned in my soul, the void so empty so freezing cold.

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Self Portrait Akir a|112

Elizabeth Rivera

Standing Tall

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AT THE BLADE'S COMMAND Onyinye Anozie

The hushed, unholy hiss of the sword drawn from a scabbard The hairs on my neck stand at obedient attention.

Halcyon days haze by in a hurry of huddled broken hearts, and I know not what to do or where to go Long predatorial haunches stalk behind the walls and in the dawn of the water.

As they pounce, not an ounce of me remains.

I am trounced, flailing like a flounder out of water.

The hushed, unholy hiss of the sword drawn from a scabbard-It falls, fair, finding your infidelities, far in the recesses of your soul

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ACT Cierra Sandoval W hat if it is all an act?

W hat if it isn?t W hat does that say about you W hat does that say about me Darling you've lost your gleam The familiar one that used to radiate on your skin Now the once snow of your skin has Turned sickly and pale But how am I to judge I have been dead Thousands of years to no avail I?m curious How did you die?

W as it me?

To be honest I wouldn't be surprised if it was I've seen you glide that blade across your neck enough To know that it wasn?t by my hand but maybe Just maybe it was by my tongue W as it all an act Well of course A dead girl knows not of love or empathy Yet you fell in love with her So say what you will about me But look at yourself and tell me W hat does that say about you?

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ALONE IN A SPACE SUIT. Joey Gonzales

Alone in a space suit, Landed in a tree.

Isolated from the world, At least she calls me.

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THE FUTURE. Joey Gonzales As a child I knew no pain. Every day was exactly the same. I would wake up and sit down. A breakfast was always waiting for me, either one of the three breakfast meals I ate every day. A feeling of joy would rush over me, but it was not natural. It was in the shape of a pill. My society decided that happiness was not attainable for the average person so they made it into a product. This life I lived was what I now know as hell and I am the reason for ending it. One night I escaped, not on purpose as I think that's impossible, but they found a reason to take me out of my machine. I was dying and I guess I was of importance to whoever holds are strings. They removed me from the machine to prolong my pointless existence but as soon as I saw real sunlight, I knew this life I had been put in was not life at all. We laid in a cave with artificial light and we were force fed pills and food to stay happy and alive. During my time in the hospital I forcefully broke my own arm in order to get a cast. As I was waiting to be put back in hell I slipped whatever could fit between my cast and my arm. It was a pen, a card, and a paperclip. It seems useless but in the machine all you have is time. Eventually I was able to break my machine in the way that it stopped force feeding me. W ithout these happy pills I was able to clearly think and that was all I needed to end this. I broke my machine from the inside and by the time someone came to fix it, I was able to gain enough strength to overpower them. I ran into the light and I did not stop until my feet were bloody. I now lay here in the cold and I love it. I love feeling pain and coldness. I love actually feeling things. I will end this existence. Not just for me, but this entire island.

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UNTITLED I sabella Clarke W hen it gets to be too loud, W hen my ears ache and my head screams I turn off all the lights, and close the door And listen.

The cars are hurtling by on Lomas, And somewhere, in the far distance, An ambulance starts to wail.

The washing machine is murmuring upstairs, And Jake is snoring softly on the couch.

One day, this will all be gone.

Someone else, someone new will lay right there, Right where the sun hits the concrete And track the light as it moves about the room.

They will wonder how the crack in the floor got to be so big And I won?t be there to tell them.

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TheDreamer

Isabella Sanchez

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MS. INQUISITIVE Onyinye Anozie Apparently The most searched question last year was why

If that?s the case I?d like to ask Jesus why he let us bask in death, my good friend, derisive and divided and this piece fused to our faces called a mask I?m feelin like I can spit fire higher and higher And I won?t retire so I?d like to inquire: Are we nothing but a bore to you?

A way to keep score of who?s rich and who?s poor whose life went out the door I?ve never robbed a store before I can?t imagine the scores and scores of those who died in the divide Akir a|120

MS. INQUISITIVE Onyinye Anozie

tried to cry out with throats dry in a breath for hand in the sand Well I?m takin a stand unbraidin each strand let?s go march in a band we?ll all walk hand in hand so you can understand why they always demand an explanation to be us Sus! Is this Among Us? ?Hey lady, get off the bus so this dude can sit with us don?t make a fuss? ?There?s an aggressive luster in your eyes He should die!

My oh my!

She?s makin me cry Not another of their kind? sigh sigh SIGH! This form of an imposter Akir a|121

MS. INQUISITIVE Onyinye Anozie

that we foster?s gonna cost ?er everything she?s ever dreamed her words, her life, and silent screams

W hy do they decide to confide in and hide by his sorry side abide by his lies and turn the American tide?

He?s screamin this blasted dream to tear their seams to crush and cremate throats of winded wing y'all need to stand down grow up shut up step up show up for our children cuz in hell is where they?re livin Get off your throne we have no kings take off your crowns or we?ll all drown In sweet Debauchery this history is truly misery Akir a|122

MS. INQUISITIVE Onyinye Anozie

this is just a prayer of a 16 year old strayer And if you treat me as blind cuz I?ve doled out my mind you can eat me alive if that?s what you?d like After all, our call is to never survive there?s no option to thrive

since that is the case and to think is a crime when I am dead I?d like to ask Jesus why

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30 ZLOTY Onyinye Anozie 30 zloty is what it cost me to live in Boston and murder my body 30 zloty is the sale price of their highest expectations explications explanations If you wanna we should take a long vacation from the station of a nation that always makes us hush with our paychecks but inside they have already ate us Bones are breaking hands are shaking regime is staking cameras outside the place I abide cuz I?m trying to hide things transpiring inside W hy all this incumbency?

Trading dollars and hours for fake loyalty?

I don?t think I?ll ever qualify as a music maker, I can't get by forget flawlessness let?s be lawlessness Is this publicationss my own condemnation?

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30 ZLOTY Onyinye Anozie

I really don?t care ?bout what isn?t there transforming the celsius fahrenheit mini mice chemistry vapor pressure into air

conversions diversions inadvertent subversion is all I know from my own version Sorry Mom I dropped the bomb but please stay calm I?m not long gone though I can?t don masks you put on I?ll make you proud if I sing this song Time flies when you?re having fun Produce the ammo, pull out your gun Be careful, pals, just set it to stun So we can make them liars run Just know if you hear this song you were wrong about me all along timid eyes that forever long for affection by a throng For those believing that?s my song to you I say, ?So long, so long!?

Oh how I wish Grey was still here to only hear him cheer Akir a|125

30 ZLOTY Onyinye Anozie

or even shed a tear would make me grin ear to ear for the first time in nearly 17 years Let me remind you now in case you forgot In time we?ll all bow to our overlords, the bots They seem to ride my thoughts and occupy the cots that I got for my best friend Dots She?s got a lotta spots her mind just rots and rots I bet you didn?t expect this some lunatic told me ignorance is bliss I hope you don?t ever miss this you?ve worked up my appetite but we shouldn?t kiss Sorry peeps, I don?t kiss and tell But if you wanna listen all I have to say is this: 30 zloty is what is cost me to live in Boston and murder my body let me remind you in case you forgot in time we?ll all bow To our overlords, The Bots

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YELLOWINSATIABLE Onyinye Anozie I?ve made plenty of resolutions over time Some of them I don?t know why My mother told me that I wished to be a teenager when I grew older Man, I wish it never came true W ho would ever want to be an awkward, greasy, uncoordinated freak dripping with fear and peppered in acne?

A stubby nothing oozing with insecurity, doubt, and the world on their shoulders?

A nobody constantly replaying the existential crisis ?W ho am I??on repeat until we never figure out the answer?

Just a bud expected to have the lengths of life carefully plotted and noted, with the money to match?

A something on this earth only hungry for a little love?

News flash!

Because we never seem to break through your thick heads We are shells with half-hearted smiles plastered onto our faces Raising hands to heaven in a minimal salute each morning But flailing our arms to Jesus in the dead of night to see if He?s even there Or aware Of the perpetual scare Crawling in our minds We didn?t come from the beach There were no honeymoon sunsets permeating the sky No siree We are a product of the parental and professorial, pervasive, pernicious, pestilence of pressure Stuffed and suffocated into the systemic space of a society of scorn Sized up and scrutinized by those sitting beside us And being dark doesn?t help you blend in with these bleak and miserable nights Akir a|127

YELLOWINSATIABLE Onyinye Anozie

You stick right out, and it?s twice as bad Pressure births diamonds, yes, but the weight can break even those who gauge their strength at a 10 Gen Z for zombie Zombie zombie zombie W ith no flesh from the blades we use to try and cope Vacuous from the ceaseless lectures Vagabonds disowned from the homes we never owned Hungry for real knowledge and truth that you never want to divulge Because you pretend to ?protect us?and feign the nurturing custody Zoned out, broken down, Our heads pushed under so we can drown Drown in a sea of essays, reports, college applications, 8 AM meets, assignments, expectations, responsibilities, career paths, rippling muscles, and hourglass bodies Does that sound familiar?

It doesn?t Because it only gets harder and harder You people had it easy W ith no technology No products of desire to entertain, social media pages to maintain, reasons to end the pain weight for you to gain Tik Tok or YouTube or Netflix to help you run away from your problems, mothers, fathers, and due dates, for at least a little while And especially no instant messages from the boys and girls at school reminding you to go kill yourself, right after Akir a|128

YELLOWINSATIABLE Onyinye Anozie

you finish up that English assignment If you?re one of us, it might be on your to-do list But you?re not, and you never will be I can already see the scoffs and sour faces forming in the spaces of your minds Rolling eyes and fed up sighs W hat you call our explanation to feed the ?lies? as to why we could not complete our assignments I dareyou to assume that it was because of the intrinsic idleness that you seem to think dominates us Before you satisfy yourself with snide speeches about the apparent epidemic of sloth Listen to the eyes of the quiet girl in third-period history Her lips have learned the path to a benign smile But her eyes scream for release from the death she arises to every day, delivered by drunken blows The boy in mathematics makes a spectacle to entertain the crowd only to flee backstage to cry out to the emptiness that mocks him The field is flooded with those who have fallen, yearning for this ?haven? and all you have to offer is a cold shoulder, Barking orders, and a path that leads to lonely Open your eyes Or are you too afraid to face the one they call Truth?

You want the perfect family package, don?t you?

The smiling, intelligent, compliant boy and girl The handsome, hardworking husband who pecks your cheek each evening Akir a|129

YELLOWINSATIABLE Onyinye Anozie

A little pooch pouncing on the verdant lawn of the suburban home But instead, God dumped garbage or your front door and told you to make it beautiful So instead of accepting the nicks, scratches, and bruises You squeezed the anxiety, asthma, and apathy out of us Scorned your children?s champion dreams and tried to quell your daughter?s cries with a hush you wove your little web of lies, piecing together the shattered china when your friends come around The china that you broke in your incessant anger We?re already so messed up there?s nothing you could ever to do piece us back together And we?re sick of painting this picture of perfection when in truth, our throats bleed from the shrieking of trying to correct your perverted infallibility And our minds are in lockdown mode of fight or flight Fight or flight is the only thing I have inside of me We?re rising up to let the universe take a peek of the fabulous teenage ecstasy An ecstasy?you ask I shall explain For I have had to explain it to myself many times, as well I would stay like this in a heartbeat if it meant allowing the world?s true terror and beauty to annihilate me, rather than putting on my rose-colored glasses on a beach in Ibiza while the children scream from empty bellies and broken dreams far away I admit, unlike you, that I do ignore my agonies to convince myself that they are but a cruel figment of my wild imagination, but in the end, I make my life?s mission to tango with them until they are tamed and unraveled I want to hear, and know, and live every reality of shattered hearts until I am absolutely insane, rather than turning them to sugar to be spoon fed to me

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YELLOWINSATIABLE Onyinye Anozie

If I?m expected to try the trick jump until I?ve broken every bone in my body, I?ll do it just to get under their skin I?d rather travel the world with the liberty of no money than be choked with the obsession of hoarding it, only to trade it for something useless in the end I would close my eyes and drive to crash like a madman so I could feel the shards of glass piercing my body, rather than turn my calloused back on humanity to grieve for myself I would let the boy in biology rip my heart out over and over so I don?t have to settle down with a rich, old man who my parents love more than me I would rather burn like Phaethon among the stars than sit behind the bars of a corporate desk like a prisoner Because the only crimes I?ve ever been charged with are being ?too young for this? being ?too old for that? and being wrong And although they claim to contain me I have everything because I'm free free free We are free Sometimesirresponsible, reckless, moody, but we learned to fly without you We leapt out of the nests ourselves when we weren?t ready just to feel the fall We carved our path through the stars without the light of the moon on our backs, and it was quite black in the Milky W ay But we chose to stay, our yearnings did not abate We?re thrilled volunteers to die for those we love But all you can do is keep things of this world above We have zeal for what is real, which will steal our hearts in cycles of thrill and vice We fall time and time again, but it surpasses living a blatant lie on your feet any day Akir a|131

YELLOWINSATIABLE Onyinye Anozie

It?s barely twenty twenty-one But the zombie apocalypse has already begun Gen zombie Z will bring forth the cacophonous cry of every injustice, and the deafening cycle of deception will be forever cleaved Don?t worry, you can keep your dollars Because we wear on our collars our hearts Although they?ve split into parts My friends, We have the sparks to start a conflagration of unity and justice So what are we waiting for?

Certainly not the adults to tell us no

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ISLAND OF ISOLATION Erica Olguin

How did I get here?

Can I ever leave?

Is it the emptiness that holds me still?

Or am I weightless?

I drift in a calm but forever flowing river.

Or is it just the appearance of movement ?

Because I feel stagnant.

And no matter how much I thrash I make no waves within this deep darkness of cool water I wish I was a floating island Then I could surface from the coldFrom the darknessThat holds me captive But it is as though my feet are bound to an anchor Thrown off of a ship.

I do not know how I got here and I don't think I can leave this isolation This floating island.

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AKIRA STAFF

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Aidan DuBois

Ava Armijo

Nicholas Hanson

James Lovato

Jackie Beckett

Jacob Moehn

Joey Gonzales

Gracie Cooper

Mrs. Hillsey, Moderator

AKIRA EDITORS

Isabella Clarke, Editor-in-Chief

Rose Vigil, Senior Editor

Cierra Sandoval, Senior Editor

Onyinye Anozie, Junior Editor

Erica Olguin, Junior Editor

Akir a|135

Akir a|136