Going the Distance
Cover photo by Chris Pirro ‘19 1st Place – Going the Distance
Going the Distance Amaranth 2019
St. Joseph High School Trumbull, CT
Cole daSilva â€˜20 2
Contents *The Road – Chris Pirro – Cover Cobblestones – Cole daSilva – 2 *Life Began as a Path – Patricia Benedek – 4-5 *Horizon – Giana Minerly – 5 *The Path of Life—Michelle Hackenson – 6 *Runner – Tyler Sisko – 6 *Prayer of the Wayfarer – Sal Orosz – 7 Gondola – Sophie Kirn – 8 Around the World – Sophie Chorek – 9 Desert – Gabriella Saavedra – 9 In Another World -- Tarryn Trauth – 10 Pink Flowers – Siru Chen – 11 The Night Dreams of the World – Jenny Lee – 12 The Lake – Ashley Collins – 12 An Unknown Destination—Emily McGovern – 13 Running – Colby Trembley – 14 Horse – Avery Malone – 15 Albert’s Purpose – Jackie Palumbo – 16-17 Fish – Lindsay Giovannone – 17 The First Spring Morning – Gabby Gatto – 18 Flower – Ke Li – 18 My Boulder – Jackie Lenard – 19 Infatuation – Amy Ogle – 20 The Park – Jackie Sullivan – 21 Abstract – Ava Salhi – 22 The Station – Ian Argento – 22 I Am From Sundays and Easters – Carmine Russo, Jr. – 23 Finding One’s Purpose – Jenny Lee – 24 Dog in a Hat – Chris Pirro – 24 Follow Me as I Go – Emily McGovern – 25 Under the Sea – Bella O’Rourke – 26 Pardon the Storm, Dear – Samantha Sorrentino – 27 Diver – Cassandra Cavallo - 27 The Boxer – Andrew Donnelly – 28-30 Purple Flower – Brooke Robinson – 31 A New Light – Gabby Gatto – 32 Puppy – Lindsay Giovannone – 32 Cliffs – Jesse Lawson – 33 The War Not Worth the Win – Michelle Hackenson – 34 Warrior – Kyle Sullivan – 35 Balloon – Penelope Manzione -- 36 The Colors of the Rainbow – Emily McGovern – 37 Autumn Leaves –Emily McGovern – 38 Boat on the Water -- Shengzhi Yu – Back Cover *Amaranth 2019 Going the Distance Contest Award Winner
Life Began as a Path Patricia Benedek â€˜20 1st Place â€“ Going the Distance She stood at the edge of the forest, the ghastly wind hauntingly awaiting her arrival, engulfing the shivering child, as a voice echoed through the breeze. A mere youngling, the child stepped forth into the vast darkness of the thicket following the echoes as it told her to go forth. Confused and bewildered, the child was engulfed by the world around her, no longer did it seem dark and overcast, but a sense of mystique had enhanced the imagination within her soul. Entranced by the beauty this life seemed to offer, the child grew to yearn the tenderness of the forest around her as it gave her comfort and love. She was mesmerized by the vast valley that surrounded the forest and of the flowers that grappled to the ground near the edge of the stream, eager to pick one to carry for the rest of her journey. Going forth, glistening in the sun with the early morning dew still on itsâ€™ petals, the child picked up a red rose from the ground and placed it gently in her pocket. The voice echoing her to stay on the path, but the child overwhelmed by the beauty of the forest, routinely went off to admire its delicacy. After twelve long and winding years, the child was no longer a child, but a youth. Her hair had grown longer and her legs had grown taller, and the once naive imagination was no longer present in the adolescent. Rebellious and negligent, she did not adhere to the warnings of the voice, as she followed down a path that was no longer hers. The light of the sun was no longer present, only the dark vengeful, sinister forest that stared back at her unsettlingly. The warm summer breeze had become the same icy wind that had occurred before the start of her journey. Terrified, she walked the path listening to the screams of the night, quivering at the thought of what would appear next. The short days and the long nights consumed the youth, paralyzing her from embracing the world around her, wishing she could once again hear the echoes of the voice that had guided her before. As the isolation endured, the youth would grow to doubt herself in the face of danger, devoured by the darkness that entrapped her soul and her spirit, but one that would allow her to recognize and flourish into her next being. After six long and winding years, the youth was no longer a youth. Her knowledge had increased and her abilities cultivated, and the once rebellious and negligent youth had evolved into a hesitant and wary adult. Reaching a split in her path, she could not decide which path to take. Afraid to take the wrong path once more, the adult was unaware on how to go on. She cried out to the voice, angrily, insisting it help her out. She cried about the pain she had suffered, the neglect she had endured, the sinister forest, and the dread she had to observe. She cried out in anguish of all the aches and all the tears she had kept inside, and all the torment 4
and misery that nearly crushed her soul. But as she cried, the wind carried her through the path of light, unknowingly to the adult, as she continued to mourn and grieve. The voice listened to her pain and it listened to her hurt, and as she continued her lament, the voice provided consolation, attending to her every need, as it slowly fed her the tranquility and harmony she had yearned to achieve for so many years.
Giana Minerly â€˜20 2 Place â€“ Going the Distance nd
The Paths of Life Michelle Hackenson ‘20 2nd Place – Going the Distance The ones who walk the shallow road Are those who do what they are told And always regret growing old The ones who take the broken path Are those who shine whenever they laugh And never listen to others’ chaff The ones who choose a common course Are those who live in no remorse And look to peace as an inner source The ones who are the most interesting of all Are those who chose no path at all They never got the chance to fall For they are at rest in a heavenly hall
Tyler Sisko ‘20 3 Place – Going the Distance rd
Prayer of the Wayfarer Sal Orosz ‘20 3 Place – Going the Distance rd
When the dawn breaks and the bright sun wakes me, Melt my obstinacy into avidity And give me the grace to bear my crosses with agility and felicity. And when I don my hood and grab my cane, Remind me to trust in Your rod and Your staff. And when I feel my aches and pains, Remind me of He Who gave it all. And when the cold winds buffet me, When the rains keep pouring down, And when I slip and fall upon the cold and rocky ground, Remind me that “I once was lost, but now [I] am found,” And when I am far away from home, From the warmth of the cozy hearth, Enkindle me with the fire of Your love, O Lord, Which has found a dwelling within my heart, A love that will always go the distance And has been with me since the start.
Sophie Kirn â€˜19 8
Around the World Sophie Chorek ‘20 A classroom can only teach so much About old, foreign countries and such So I prefer to travel to distant lands And have these experiences on hand. The London city floating high The buildings nearly touch the sky A red booth spotted here and there I’ve never seen a sight so rare. Venetian Vale and salty air Sounds of song playing in the square Waves crashing against the walls My stress begins to fall. In the Kraków Main Square Vibrant blossoms are ever so rare Red bricked buildings cover the cityscape Shadows from the setting sun take shape. After visiting these wondrous places And entering extravagant spaces, I’ve come to realize That my view of home has begun to capsize.
Gabriella Saavedra ‘19 9
In Another World Tarryn Trauth ‘19 In another world, I can be anything I want to be. A world where anything can happen. A world where I am not afraid to be me. In this world, I am a superhero, who flies around the world saving people. In this world, I am an amazing field hockey goalie who leads my team to states and finally get a banner on the gym wall. In this world I am smart and great at building, and I will make robots and gadgets that will help bring the world closer to the future. But the biggest difference between this world I dream, and reality is… In this world, I am not afraid to talk to people. In this world, I have many friends who accept me for who I am. Friends that don’t pretend to be my friends and then talk behind my back. In this world my social anxiety no longer exists. All the negative thoughts that take over my mind and bring me down, are overtaken by positive thoughts. In this world, I love myself, not hate myself. I love the way I look, way I talk, way that I act. In this world, I don’t worry about what people think of me and are they judging my every move. In this world, is the life I wish I had. But as I am getting older, and getting ready for college, and soon for life ahead… I realize that I can’t keep running away from reality, and return to the world I created in my head forever. Because things will never change. I have to realize that the only way to change my life, and turn it into the world I created, is to go out and do it. I have to also realize that I can’t do it on my own, I have to let people help me. And I can’t be afraid to ask for help.
Siru Chen â€˜19 11
The Night Dreams of the World Jenny Lee â€˜20 The Sky churns from a youthful orange to an elderly blue Towering buildings hauntingly shine with an eerie glow; The wondrous stars, blink ferociously against the bleak horizon, As the illuminating waning crescent drowns out the darkness of the lonely night. The lustrous planes zoom from cities to skylines, The exhausted birds glide to their destined homes in hindsight.
Ashley Collins â€˜20 12
An Unknown Destination Emily McGovern â€˜20 Along a winding path. To where? I don't know Join with me as I stumble, And make my way Through an uneven jungle As I climb over roots And pass through bushes, Feeling the earth beneath my boots. I make my way through the dense trees, Surrounded by nature, And filled with glee. Upon a cliff is where I stand, Admiring the view Of land untouched by manâ€™s hand. In the valley down below, Animals roam free While the flowers grow. It is so rare to see A chasm of such peace In a world filled with violence and industry. As the view fades away When I take a step back, I will cherish all that I saw here today. I return to the trail, The chaotic unknown, Ready for life, and what it may entail. 13
Running Colby Trembley ‘19 Do you ever feel like you are running; Chased by the big beasts of reality? Their wits are charming, their smiles cunning, Their claws are screaming out fatality.
They follow quickly through the darkest nights, Ready to feast upon your darkest dears. Calling on those who are prepared to fight, On pale cheeks shall flow rivers of tears.
Gasping for breath, you sit and wait till dawn, As the darkness closes in like quicksand. The monsters playing chess and you’re the pawn. Their booming voices call their harsh demands.
When running remember you can be bright, It’s always darkest just before the light. 14
Avery Malone â€˜19 15
Albert’s Purpose Jackie Palumbo ‘19 Among all of the creatures in the sea, there is one special one who yearns to find a purpose. Below the salty cyan waters of the Pacific Ocean lives the most courageous frenzy of sharks. Contrary to the rest of his gam of powerful and feared sharks, Albert is tiny and vulnerable. Despite Albert’s efforts to help hunt for food, he has never been much help because of his dull teeth and short fin strokes. Even though Albert is useless, the other sharks love him and try to shelter him from the ignorant sea roamers. Fish respect and hide from the other sharks, yet when they see Albert and his short fins, they blow bubbles of laughter and only scurry away when they see another shark approaching. “Give it up, Albie,” the mean fish say, “you'll never be a real shark, starfish are scarier than you are!” Hoping to do more with his coddled life, today Albert decides he wants to prove he can be independent and daring, just like his mates. It's not that Albie hates his overprotective herd, he appreciates their protection, but he wants to prove that he can break the boundaries others have seem to set for him and catch prey. Jellyfish flutter in the sunlit water as Albert quietly swims away from his sleeping frenzy, being careful not to awaken anyone. “Keep calm,” Albert says to himself, “today you will become a real shark and earn the respect of the ocean.” Letting the snickers and gossip of passing creatures go in one gill and out the other, Albert searches for his prey. Most of the fish Albert comes across swim fast or look too intimidating. Noticing a smaller earth-colored fish a few meters away that seems to be slower than the rest of its shoal, Albie studies it carefully. Once Albie has scoped out the scene and all the other fish have vanished into the blue abyss, he prepares for attack, hoping that this fish will finally be the one. Picking up speed to entrap the fish in his teeny, dull-toothed mouth, Albert suddenly stops when the fish turns around and stares at Albert with tired, miserable eyes. Questioning why the fish fails to try to swim away, Albert slowly approaches the peculiar fish. Reading others’ emotions has usually been easy for Albert, but he has a harder time understanding this one. “So, get on with it already,” the fish, which Albert now realizes is a female says, “please just end it all now.” “The fact that you actually want to be eaten is slightly concerning to me,” Albert responds. “Unfortunately, my life sucks and I can't seem to do anything right so stop the questioning and just eat me already!” the earth fish replies, showing her true emotions. Vibrant blue eyes continue to stare up at Albert as he realizes what he must do, he and this fish are the same in many ways; they both seem to be the weakest of their group and just like Albert, this fish feels hopeless as well.
“When you are feeling weak, just remember that there is hope, little fish, I know this better than anyone, just push through the tough times and swim on,” says Albert as he begins to swim away, his little fins carrying him quicker than ever before. Xenodochy has never been shown to the little fish before, and while she is still upset, it gives her a sliver of hope that things can get better. Yearning to know the story of the not so scary shark that saved her life, the earth fish whirls with all of her might to catch up to Albert. Zipping through the water as new friends who are even stronger and faster together, Albert realizes that even a little insignificant shark has a purpose and can help other
Lindsay Giovannone ‘20 17
The First Spring Morning Gabby Gatto â€˜20 The Sun peeks out from behind the trees I smell the newly blossomed flowers and feel the springtime breeze. Leaves are weighed down by drops of dew The bright green grass looks brand new.
I feel the wet grass on my toes As I walk to the garden where the flowers grow. Tulips, roses, and sunflowers, Beautiful enough to look at for hours.
The warmth begins to melt the snow The winter feels so long ago. Finally, the spring is here My Happiness will reappear!
Ke Li â€˜19 18
My Boulder Jackie Lenard ‘21 They told me ‘carry this boulder uphill’ They forced it on my back, And without teaching me any skill, They let me go into the pitch black.
I was told to thrive; I only wanted to survive.
They said the boulder would get lighter And yet I still stumble. But sometimes I feel brighter And I think ‘I will not crumble’.
The farther uphill I go, The more I seem to grow.
This boulder I was told to carry, Felt like my demise And although this was involuntary, I begin to see the prize.
I see the top in sight And finally, I can see a light.
Infatuation Amy Ogle ‘22 It began as a simple glance
The delusion shattered
between you and I.
at the very moment my heart did.
To my heart’s delight,
I realized my mother
you said a greeting
no longer treasured that ring.
worth more than gold
And her garden,
or my mother’s treasured ring.
with its beautiful roses,
If my heart fluttered
had wilted long ago
and flew out of my chest,
when the unfaithful man and the
then I knew you would
hold it with tender care.
renounced their vows.
“Love is blind,”
I was a minor casualty
she warned me.
in your ruthless game called love,
where I laid my heart on the line
sick with a green color
and you tossed it away for someone
that matched my mother’s garden,
could not prevent me
The vile rose you gave me only the
from vying for your love
like water in a desert.
hurt equally as much
How prideful I felt
when it pricked me with its hidden
when you reciprocated it.
thorn. I should have listened to the skeptic, for it was a poisonous passion that ruined me.
Jackie Sullivan â€˜21
Abstract Ava Salhi -19 White brush strokes dance across the black painted canvas meeting different strokes of beige and purple. The lines of light color attempt to quell the darkness of the bleakly colored background, almost completely drowning them out. Small drips of paint roll off the bright colorless line, every stark white line has a drip, yet no other colors are as messy. Purple stays in the lines and beige cleanly waltzes across the across the canvas while white dares to step out of the norm. Attempting to be different.
Ian Argento â€˜20 22
I Am From Sundays and Easters Carmine Russo, Jr. ‘19 I am from overgrown forests, noisy crickets and lingering mosquitoes. From assortments of stuffed bears and backyard swimming pools. I am from Falcon Crest and Main Street and endlessly roaming yellow school buses, from creaking swing sets with smooth slides and broken monkey bars. I am from “come back here” and “you can do it on your own.” From friendly suburban neighbors with Labrador retrievers crowding the streets. I am from Sunday football and pasta dinners with cousins I didn’t know existed, from Red Sox and Cowboys fans that roared and hollered at grandma to move out of the way of the television.
I am from excessive dinner plates and the overloaded Easter baskets with jellybeans and jolly ranchers, and Italian greetings and goodbyes that almost seemed to never end. I am from constant studying and sleep deprivation, from overwhelming musicals with songs that get stuck in your head. I am from those moments of success and love that make a life worth living.
Finding Oneâ€™s Purpose Jenny Lee â€˜20 The girl did what she was supposed to do. She listened to her parents, received the best grades, and was an overall amazing daughter. She still often wondered what her purpose in life was. She had to find herself. The question lingered: was she meant to be the doctor that her parents urged her to be? Wanting to please them, she became the best doctor in her hospital. A natural they would say. Still, she felt incomplete, so she traveled. She traveled to many countries, met many different people, yet a sense of numbness clouded her soul. She felt as if she was missing something, and she continued to look for what she was missing. She bought material possessions; she made money; she helped people, but still, nothing could fill the gap. Even after all these years, the girl still could not find herself. She wrote. She wrote pages and pages full of words about her life from the glorious times to the tragic days until her journal was completely filled with delicate scribbles. Her words poignant words of wisdom and memories helped her to understand that she never did need to find herself, and that she already did. She never had to be the doctor her parents expected her to be. She never had to travel to discover her inner soul. She never had to change any bit of herself to know who she was. She was a good daughter, a great doctor, and furthermore, a flawed human being. Lenona was herself, and that was what mattered the most.
Chris Piro â€˜19 24
Follow Me as I Go Emily McGovern â€˜20 Follow me as I go,
Follow me as I go,
Along a winding path.
Along a winding path.
To where? I don't know
To where? I don't know.
Join with me as I stumble,
Together we go side by side,
And make my way
Through an uneven jungle
Along the beach at low tide.
As I climb over roots
Burying my toes in the sand dune,
And pass through bushes,
Tired from chasing waves,
Feeling the earth beneath my boots.
I feel the warmth as the sun reaches
I make my way through the trees,
Surrounded by nature,
Encompassed by an endless blue,
And filled with glee.
I listen serenely To the waves calming tune.
Follow me as I go, Along a winding path. To where? I don't know. Run to and fro, With me in joy, As I frolic in a meadow. I dance amongst the flowers And spin through the grass, Wet from the afternoon showers. I spend my day amongst the bees, Underneath a cloudless sky, Feeling unbound and free.
Bella O’Rourke ‘20
Pardon The Storm, Dear Samantha Sorrentino ‘19 Do you think Thunder and Lightning ever disagree? Maybe Lightning is ashamed of Thunder’s roar. Maybe she is “too much to handle” and he’d rather stay at a distance. Do you think Rain promised Cloud that he would never leave? Maybe her tears drove him away. Maybe her emotions get the best of her. How could they not? Poseidon splashes the past through her mind like raging whirlpools. Darkness creeps up in the middle of a beautiful day, and she is left hopeless once again. She has made friends with the sunken ships of her mind. She is trapped in a fishnet, left gasping for air. The flashbacks remind her that the waves of this world are not as forgiving as she is. Blistering winds drive out everyone who enters: If the storm is rough enough, no one will try to cross the sea. That is exactly what she wants.
Cassandra Cavallo ‘20 27
The Boxer Andrew Donnelly ‘20 Jack slumps against the corner of the ring, the sound of the bell marking the end of the fifth round echoing through his head. His vision is blurred, his lungs are on fire, and the blood in his mouth creates an overpowering metallic taste. He takes a swig from his water bottle, most of it falling from his lips to the floor. His coach says something to him, the voice sounding muffled as though under water. The only thing that Jack focuses on is his opponent across the ring, not breaking eye contact with him. He is half Jack’s age, with double his speed and stamina. The bell rings again, and the two gladiators stand back up to face each other once more. Nearly two decades prior, Jack “The Fort” Connor was the man to beat in the world of boxing. At the age of sixteen, he left his home in the south of Boston due to his abusive father. He hopped around from job to job, but nothing ever lasted for more than a month or two. Jack was never one with a great variety of skills, but if there was one thing that he could do well, it was fighting. From scuffles between friend and foe alike, and having to learn to defend himself from his father, Jack was nearly unstoppable in a fight. With what little money he had, he would usually end up in a small, dilapidated gym. It was at this gym where he met Joseph Miller, a small time coach and manager. Miller took Jack under his wing, and two months later, Jack was in the ring for his first real competitive match. The fight began, and the opponent got in two hits right to Jack’s face. Jack recovered immediately, and responded with a volley of hits to the opponent's torso. By the second round, the opponent was barely able to stand, while Jack stood strong as ever. The next round lasted mere seconds. In a matter of minutes, Jack had made a name for himself in the world of boxing. The media christened him with the name “The Fort”, a well-deserved title from the first fight. As the years went on, Jack “The Fort” became a household name. Jack was at the top of the world, and it seemed that he was going to continue moving up. A sharp pain snaps Jack back to reality, his opponent landing another hit on his left cheek. He is forced back, barely able to block the volley of hits flying toward his face. Jack tries to pick up a pattern, but the pain all over his body makes it difficult to concentrate on anything. Eventually, anticipating a pause from the other fighter, he lashes out, hitting his jaw like a cannon, sending him backward. A hit like that ten years ago would have ended the fight then and there, but Jack barely has the energy to stand, let alone take out a kid half his age in one hit. His opponent recovers, and lunges toward Jack again. Jack clips him one more time on the right side of his face, but it doesn’t faze him. The opponent jabs him in his right eye, forcing Jack to stumble backwards again. Being at the top of world went to Jack’s head. Drinking, drugs, and parties were vices that had a complete hold over life. When he was thirty-three, Jack 28
Connor was pulled over for speeding down the highway at nearly a 100 miles per hour. Jack, enraged, began screaming at the officer, and attempted to attack him, but fell to the asphalt and was handcuffed. He was charged with driving under the influence, resisting arrest, and possession of narcotics. Over all, it accumulated to three years in prison. The media had a predictable field day, headlines telling of the fall of a titan in American sports. In the years following the arrest, Jack’s dream world he had built for himself had fallen. His wife left, taking their threeyear-old daughter with her. His friends and family that didn’t alienate themselves while he was in prison, he pushed away himself. Jack crawled into a bottle, his only solace being memories of former glory. A mixture of sweat and blood rains onto the floor, as Jack is hit again and again by the opponent. The bell rings and they return to their corners. Jack slumps down, and feels himself losing the will to fight. It’s at that moment he hears a sound. A sound that he hasn’t heard in years. A woman’s voice cutting through the chatter of the audience. “C’mon, Fort! You can take him!” At first, it is only that single voice. Three seconds after, another voice. “Yeah, Fort!” A knock at Jack’s door wakes him up from his drunken stupor. He lumbers to the door, opening it to the length the chain will allow. Standing outside is Joseph Miller. The years have not been any better for him; his face gaunt and hollow. “Listen, Jack, I know it’s been a while. Too long. I just wanted to let you know about this publicity match I can set you up with. It’s for this new kid on the block, almost as good as you were. I know, you haven’t done this in a while, but I think it would be a better send off for “The Fort” than just having you drink to death”. Jack doesn’t say a word. “Alright kid, alright. You do what you want.” He walks off, but Jack calls out to him. “Hey, Joe, when’s the fight?” Joseph turns and smiles. “It’s in two months. You better get ready.” As Jack and the opponent begin their battle again, the chanting of the crowd grows louder. “Fort, Fort, Fort, Fort!” The chanting echo gives Jack a new found strength, and he throws it all toward his opponent. With a barrage of hits as fast and powerful as cannons, Jack falls into an almost trance-like state. His opponent, who up until this point was owning the fight, can now only defend himself from the animalistic attack from Jack. The next few rounds go by in a blur, Jack’s concentration focused entirely on his opponent. With each landed punch, the chanting of his name grows louder and louder. By the twelfth and final round, both warriors are battered, bruised, and broken. The final bell rings, and the match is over. Jack half walks, and is half dragged back into the locker room. Everything goes by in a blur, with Jack barely clinging to consciousness. He wakes up on the 29
cot used by the medical examiner. He turns his head to see Joseph standing there with a smile. “You did good out there kid, you really did.” “Did I win?” “No. The kid won. Barely. But the crowd didn’t seem to think so. Get some rest kid. You’ve got the world ahead of you.” Joseph turns to leave, turning on the radio as he walks out. Jack turns his head toward the sound of the DJ’s voice. “And in the world of sports, fans got to see a fight, that, frankly, we never even knew we wanted.” “That’s right, Chuck, earlier this evening newcomer Frank Bertinelli faced off against veteran boxer Jack Connor, or better known by his nickname, “The Fort” .” Jack stands up slowly, his entire body aching. He walks over to the sink, and looks into the mirror. “What was originally meant as a ‘publicity fight’ ended up becoming a full twelve round white knuckle brawl between these two fighters,” says one of the DJ’s. “And although Bertinelli won in the end, the crowd’s support was completely owned by Jack,” replies the other. Jack looks in the mirror, his right eye swollen shut, the left one black and bruised. While he was out, someone taped up his nose, as well as stitching up cuts on his face, including one on his left eyebrow. His forearms and chest are covered in bruises. His teeth red from blood. “Frankly, I never thought I would ever hear the name Jack Connor again. After he got arrested a few years ago, I thought that was it. But hell, he surprised me with that comeback. Watching him up there was like watching one of his classic fights. I was actually excited.” “Me, too. Honestly, I think after that, I would not be surprised if his career gets completely turned around after this.” “That would not surprise me at all. I think we’re going to see a lot more of Jack “The Fort” in the near future.” Jack looks in the eyes of the beaten, bloody figure in the mirror. And for the first time in nearly twenty years, Jack “The Fort” Connor, smiled.
Brooke Robinson â€˜20 31
A New Light Gabby Gatto ‘20 As the darkness of the night sky turns to light it welcomes a familiar warmth; a feeling impossible to recount, but apparent when felt. A tranquil kind of solitude from the rest, for those who awaken with the sun view the day with a contrasting light. The morning is meant to be observed in all its beauty; the soft song of the birds, the glistening, green grass, the sun’s heat on your skin, and the blue sky: as clear as the summer mind. Yet, the true beauty extends beyond the senses; it is the pure feeling of happiness, ample time to reflect life’s wonders, and the invulnerability of being truly alive while the world seems to rest. Soon, the sun’s strength will grow stronger and awaken the rest; they however, wake to different light, equally beautiful, but different. Vibrant and beautiful, astir and bustling. But, when you wake with the sun you see both lights; tranquil and rowdy, reflective and active, secure and risky and you are acquainted with a different kind of peace inside of you.
Lindsay Giovannone ‘20 32
Jesse Lawson â€˜19
The War Not Worth the Win Michelle Hackenson ‘20 The sound of cannon in the ears Will bring about a grown man’s fears The wives are quaking, wrought with tears The battle is not won
The endless shouting can be heard The soldiers’ vision becomes blurred Cannonballs soar like graceful birds The battle is not won
Nebulous colors all around A fire! Run! And charging sound A thousand hands are on the ground The battle is not won
So raise your broken banners high The bleeding sun will burn the sky The war will rage till night is nigh The battle is not won
The journey will not end tonight The men here still have more to fight But winning this war does not seem right The battle is never won
Kyle Sullivan â€˜22 35
Penelope Manzione â€˜20
The Colors of the Rainbow Emily McGovern â€˜20 Red is loud, A violent, angry scream. A forest fire raging against a blank screen Red is soft. A symbol of love, passion, and emotion. Red is two conflicting, powerful sides. Orange is bubbly, Always happy and bright. Orange can be ugly, And sometimes cast aside. Orange is unique, A color left unrhymed, But united with a fruit to last for all time. Yellow is mellow, bland and boring. Yellow can also shine, As bright as the morning sun. Yellow can be sour, Leaving a bitter taste behind. Green is life, Bright and vivacious. A multitude of shades that depict nature and its beauty. Green is two-faced. Both elegant and malicious. Green can be jealousy, greed, and desire; Bringing out the worst in others.
Blue is powerful, Calm and bright like the summer sky, As magnificent and compelling as the rolling waves. Blue is wild and ferocious, Like the ocean during a storm. Blue is everywhere, Always present and welcoming. Purple is majestic, Regal in color and shade. A luscious and deep pigment, Like the juice from a plumb. Purple is bright and alive; A flower swaying in the breeze. White is opportunity, A blank canvas waiting to be filled. White is often overshadowed, But holds so much power. White is pure brightness, Offering a softening touch. White is peace, comfort, and the encouragement that anything is possible. Black is eternal, An ever-present force. A tide of gloomy, dark shadows dancing across a page. Black is strong and irreversible. Black is bold, Always ready to make a statement.
Letter from the Editor: Amaranth is a product of the many individuals who came together, committing their time and efforts to its creation and publication, and we would like to thank everyone who was part of this year’s journal. In particular, we would like to recognize and thank Mrs. Broderick for her endless encouragement and the many hours she devoted to the production of this work. Knowing Mrs. Broderick both in the classroom and through extra-curricular activities such as this, I would like to say thank you on behalf of your students for your inspiration, dedication and, yes, the “occasional” constructive criticism which pushes us to go the distance with our work. On behalf of Amaranth, we would also like to thank Mrs. Martinez, Mrs. Conetta and the English and Arts departments for the important roles they played in the process of creating Amaranth. This year, Amaranth was successful in initiating a literary and arts contest which allowed students to earn prizes for the submission of their work. We were able to collect a number of excellent submissions representing this year’s theme, “Going the Distance”, which was decided upon in collaboration with the yearbook staff. This theme reflects our experiences at St. Joes, but also translates into the world beyond. As a graduating senior, I can say that during our high school journey we were challenged to grow and develop not only as students, but as people. We will always reflect upon and appreciate this time as we move forward and go the distance to our future.
Mike Denihan ‘19
Emily McGovern ‘20 38
Going the Distance – Amaranth 2019 Editor-in-Chief: Michael Denihan ‘19 Assistant Editor: Augustus LeRoux ‘19 Art Editor: Anna Argulian ‘19 Assistant Art Editor: Abby Cloud ‘19 Editorial & Art Staff: Sarah Anderson, Patricia Benedek, Matthew Blanco, Emily Bowlby, Sophie Chorek, Dante Criscio, Annika DelRosario, Julia DiCesare, Manuel Garzon, Lindsay Giovannone, Michelle Hackenson, Aiden Kiley, Jenny Lee, Helen Mahoney, Maeve Malone, Hailey Maltais, Emily McGovern, Elisabeth McKenna, Molly McKenna, Nana Muldoon, Hannah Mussatto, Lily Norris, Amy Ogle, Gina Orazietti, Lauren Pleszko, Carson Rodriguez, Christopher Rossetti, Carmine Russo, Jr., Katherine Spangenberg, Kaitlyn Szczepanski, Kimberly Wu Moderator: Eileen Rafferty Broderick ‘79 The Amaranth staff and Mrs. Broderick would like to thank Mrs. Conetta for lending her support, Ms. Aldana, Mrs. Cardillo, Mr. Forde, Ms. Gallagher, Ms. Lowell, Mrs. Sorrentino, and Ms. Spano, for inspiring their students to write and write well, Ms. Richter for her talented artists and photographers, Mrs. Lisa Russell and the Yearbook staff for helping to develop the title for this year’s journal, and Mrs. Martinez for her support and assistance in getting Amaranth 2019 published in both print and on-line.
Shengzhi Yu â€˜19
The Amaranth is the annual student-edited literary and artistic journal of St Joseph High School. Amaranth is published each May and celebra...
Published on May 29, 2019
The Amaranth is the annual student-edited literary and artistic journal of St Joseph High School. Amaranth is published each May and celebra...