Amaranth 2016 Things Remembered
St. Joseph High School Trumbull, CT 2016 Volume 45
Contents The Long Journey Home by Lindsey Savko – 1-2 The Bridge Towering the City and Brook by Kaiyla Warren – 2-4 Central Bridge by Ray Jia – 4-5 Liz and London by Marisa Doyle – 6 Artwork by April Hu - 6 The Future by Margaret Blanco – 7 The City by Shannon Healey – 7-8 Hurricane by Erin Welch – 8-9 Photography by Lingyan Jiang - 10
The Long Journey Home Lindsey Savko â€˜17 Jack and Rose Kehoe are relatively the unique couple. Sometimes they get along, sometimes they do not. They had the privilege of conceiving four children: Jack, who is the oldest and is thirty-five; has a wife, Liz and a son, John Thomas. There second son is Robert, his wife Adrienne had passed away but made two beautiful daughters, Allison and Jaclyn. Their third child is Janet, who has a husband, Jim and two children, Linda and James. Their last child is Jimmy, who has a wife, Rene and two children, Chris and Kayla. Jack and Rose provided the support for their family to grow and become independent to produce the next generation. Jack has just recently retired from his job and is looking forward to spending many memorable years traveling all around the world with his wife, Rose. Recently, they each had the idea of going on a family road trip to the other side of Paris, adjacent to the Eiffel Tower. They felt it would be a remarkable time for their grandkids to experience the other side of Paris as they only have been to a small part of the city. This would give them the experience to explore the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre Museum which contains some of the best artwork in the world, and to gain the knowledge of the true culture of where they live. The sixteen of them traveled on a crowded bus but were delighted to be spending quality time together to experience the dream of a lifetime. Jack and Roseâ€™s dream was to show their family what they have been missing all of these years as they have lived here all their life. They especially wanted to show them the view from the Louvre Museum which is one of the most famous views in America. After their three hour drive to the other side of Paris, Jack and Rose gave them a complete tour of Paris and narrated the sites to discuss how fortunate they were to be so truly blessed. 1
They explored the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and most importantly the view from the museum that just took their breath away. This was the reason they traveled so far, it was their dream to show their one, big, happy family what their culture is about and how living in Paris, 1905 was a place to be. They all could not consent that spot and view of the entire city, it was just breathtaking. At that point, their journey was over. They were finally home.
The Bridge Towering the City and Brook Kaiyla Warren â€˜16 I was wandering through the streets helpless and alone The empty heart in my body desired another home There must be someone I can love and hold tight All my life I had slept alone all night I never had a feeling like this before I was innocent, pure in heart, and a hopeless romantic at the core Promises were made that I feared would be fled Nothing would break apart my hope for what lied ahead. We had met through a matter of chance and fate Our affair happened to be abrupt and one of which many could relate Our love took a turn for the worse by ending in betray The deed was done and we began to drift away There was once a time our love was assured We had promised to never grow apart, for our love was allured The world was loud, making distractions with bright lights 2
We thought hope would keep us together on clamorous nights The world is a loud place; no doubt about it Life is a matter of catching opportunities, rather than living life for wit It is desirable to step out of the mass with a peaceful outlook My favorite place is on the bridge towering the city and brook I sit here every day with a feeling of dismay I longed for the special someone to appear so I prayed On one eventful day I decided to meet at my spot Overwhelmed with the world, my heart acquired a clot The feeling was immediate, an unbelievable sensation I was relieved of all desire and hope, for which I had begun the process of transmutation I felt bolder than I had ever felt my whole life Even if I had lived my entire life without a wife On a day that I had felt secure as my new self The structure of my beams provided me with a new wealth I felt two people resting on my platform The emotions that radiated was wholesome and warm The couple had stepped on my platform for a break The world was tough and filled with heartache They stayed together and felt peace as one On top of my platform, my greatest desire had been done The young love encountered an act of fate 3
Their affair was immediate and would lead to more dates I am elated to know I was involved in their reunions I never gained a love with such deep human fusion.
Central Bridge Ray Jia ‘16 It was a Sunday afternoon, 1989. I was walking on the Central Bridge of Tihtrow, the capital of my motherland Eurasia. My cousin from Eastasia just called me yesterday, saying there was a protest in his capital. Citizens were trying to take over the government building, and very unluckily some recalcitrant young men were killed. Eastasia was known for its great educated civilization and their high moral values, how could this happen? As I pondered this question, I had walked almost to the center of the bridge. A couple was standing in front of the white balustrade. They were holding each other’s hands, with their right hands touching their forehead, and they sighed. The man was also holding an umbrella. “Excuse me, why do you sigh on such a bright day?” I asked. “We failed!” they said together. “Failed what?” “It's a long,” he paused for a second, “and sad story.” “Then may I share your sadness and release your burden?” “You are a good man, but I believe you will not like my story, just like many other people.” “No. I am a reporter from CBB. I would like to hear some unpopular stories.” “Alright,” he crossed his arms and took a deep breath, “Ten years ago, this was a vacant land, unexplored, undeveloped.” The lady said, “Jack and I were the first family to live here. We cultivated the land, built houses, and hunted beasts. Every day was tiring, but we enjoyed it. Because, it’s nature! Trees are everywhere, birds are everywhere, and flowers are everywhere. Dozens of melons and pumpkins on the ground right behind our house; hundreds of heathers and red clovers bloom around Smith Lake; thousands of oaks and birches grew,” she suddenly stopped, looking forward 4
intently, “right there.” Her hand pointed forward, and held in the air like a statue. The man looked at my confused face, and said, “You see this prosperous Tihthrow, it was all forest, and our house is at the foot of that mountain, on the horizon. Look what they've done, the only trees left in this town are these two strips.” The lady put down her hand, “Those invaders are now the first class citizens living here, they filled the lake, burnt the forest, and decimated the animals. Every day is tiring, but they enjoy it. Because, it's urban! Buildings everywhere, roads everywhere, factories everywhere. Dozens of ambulances go through this street every day since the clinics in the countryside are not big enough to accommodate all the sick people; hundreds of people living on the first floor can't receive sunlight in their room because the building to their south blocked it; thousands of Eastasian refugees were,” She paused again, “were debased as slaves to fill that lake.” Her hands once again were on her forehead, and covered her eyes, which were already filled with tears. I turned my head, and unfortunately the bright sunlight made me unable to see. And when my eyesight came back, I saw a carriage coming. The wheeler came off the horse, and handed me a roll of parchment. I opened the parchment, and noticed that it was just a flyer for a new town built north of Tihthrow. I was going to throw it away, but the couple asked me to take a look at it. I looked around, and saw the wheeler got on his carriage, stroke his beard, and started moving. “Sir, please wait!” yelled Jack to stop the carriage. “I really want to see this place, do you know how can we get there?” asked Jack. “Wow, really? What attract you to go to visit my town? I can take you there.” “The Garden City! A city that has nature, what a great combination! What's your name them?” “My name is Ebenezer Howard. Nice to meet you!” “My name is Jack Smith, nice to meet you, too!” I followed them and got on the carriage. Before, I always thought that big cities were more convenient, and when we get sick from the pollutants in the air, we just need to see doctors nearby or take some soma. However, I never thought that those sicknesses caused by the big cities could be solved in this newly designed garden city. Actually, I never paid attention to the problems the lady had mentioned. At night, lying on the bed in Lintchworth, the Garden City, I started writing my journal: Times 25 6 1989 Two doubleplusgood duckspeakers at Central Bridge.
Liz and London Marisa Doyle â€˜17 High upon the balcony, The view is beautiful: The city traffic, the clouds laying upon the distant mountains, and the sound of the towns people. But no one else is as beautiful as Liz, the women who stands close to me. Her crooked smile, the sound of her voice, and her immense warm heart. There is no one else I would want to share this view with. There is no one else who deserves the view of these two beauties beside me.
April Hu â€˜17 6
The Future Margaret Blanco ‘17 As we look out into the big city We see our futures in front of us Everything looks so nice and so pretty The people look happy, which is a plus The day had begun, so much to get done What we shall do first, I am not sure of Do I go to work, or do I do something fun? Don’t know what to do as we stand above Now we don’t want to leave this pretty site To stand there and think about our life The sun is setting and it will be night I have spent the day looking with my wife It’s time to go home and sleep for the night Looking out to the future was a sight.
The City Shannon Healy ‘16 The city glowed in a gray haze, the type that bellows from factory pipes and that cars huff out with every breath their engines take. It was cold, but not cold enough to quiet the city. People still made their way through the streets, busy, always busy. I watched from above, pretending I was their God watching over them. These were my people, my town, and my community. It's typically quiet up here; most are too busy to even consider venturing to the roof of town hall. But today was different, the sky more nebulous than normal, the sunlight drowning in shadow. A couple stood silently to my left, both dressed entirely in black, both looking unsettled. I considered asking why their faces were so troubled, but I didn't care enough to ask. 7
Eventually they stepped closer to the edge, looking down at the hustle and bustle beneath them. They quickly made eye contact before grabbing hands. The woman began to weep. Her cries were heavy and wet, as though she were releasing years of tears that she had allowed to dwell inside of her. The man did not look at her; his eyes were fixed on the horizon. Her sobbing began to bother me; she was interrupting the only quiet time my life allowed. After listening for longer than I wanted, I decided to get up and leave. I walked behind the two, but neither seemed like they had any hint I was there at all. Perhaps they just did not care. I was only a few feet from the stairwell when I heard a terrible scream, just loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough to know it was not from the couple. I turned to look anyway, but when I looked, no one was there. Perplexed, I moved hastily back to the edge. Lying at the foot of the building was the couple. People began to crowd around, momentarily exiting their busy routines. They remained crowded until the police and paramedics arrived, after which most returned to their own bubbles. I fled the roof, not wanting the authorities to believe I had any involvement. For a few days people murmured about the couple. Friends and even strangers would approach me asking if I had heard about the tragedy, saying it was an awful occurrence and that they hoped the couple's souls were at rest. The murmuring subsided as quickly as it had begun and people seemed to move on, back to their own lives and their own business. The tragedy melted into the horizon, the haze returned, and everyone forgot. The hustle and bustle of the city continued on, marching through the streets and over their grave. Hurricane Erin Welch â€˜17 I am a hurricane of emotions, When thereâ€™s no reason to be. I have been both raised and razed In a privileged society. Thoughts and feelings scratch and pull at my paper-skin. They bite and sting, seeking attention. They are the inventions of my inner intentions and contentions. There are no conventions, only misconceptions. I am tired of always being logged-in, 8
Locked in, bogged down, Flogged by blogs, worshiping Internet gods. Sometimes I wish to disconnect and protect my own intellect, To be of the select that reject the subsect of the creatively derelict, Who abuse their electronic power and confuse it with prowess. But it might be too late. I feel alone when I am in a crowd, And when I am alone I feel suffocated by my own self. The silence is loud, proud, Covering me like a shroud As it lauds and applauds it ability to debilitate me. I strain against the gains of my unease. My ability to please waxes and wanes. The bane of my existence is my own name. I am to blame. I try to escape, to fix myself, But the tempest keeps pestering, festering, Nesting in me. How can one tame a hurricane? How can I quell the storm in my veins Where the insane rain reigns, When all I can do is complain? 9
Lingyan Jiang â€™17 10
Amaranth 2016 â€“ Things Remembered
Editorial & Art Staff: Kara Cloud, Hayleigh Evans, Kaylee Fuentes, Shannon Healey, Jenelle Hernaez, Jovanna Hillman, Jillian Hurley, Anna Jones, Jessica Magocsi, Rebecca Picone, Elizabeth Pinto, Melissa Psaras, Maria Rodrigues, Connor Rodriguez, Jacob Russell, Sarah Russo, Grace Scully, Olivia Scully, Zuri Soto
Moderator: Mrs. Christie Koolis
The Amaranth staff and Mrs. Koolis would like to thank Mrs. Broderick, Mrs. Aldana-Rodriguez, Mrs. Cardillo, Mr. Forde, Ms. Gallagher, Ms. Lowell, Mrs. Sorrentino, and Ms. Spano for inspiring their students to write and write well. And to the writers, artists, and photographers of St. Joseph High School â€“ thank you for all that you do to make Amaranth what it is today.
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 21, 2016
The Amaranth is the annual student-edited literary and artistic journal of St Joseph High School. Amaranth is published each May and celebra...