Tiger P.A.W.S. Personal Academic Writing Space
St. Philipâ€™s College Volume 2, Issue 2 Fall 2013
Tiger P.A.W.S. Personal Academic Writing Space St. Philipâ€™s College Volume 2, Issue 2 Fall 2013
Cover Art: I Am by Mike Quigley Paper Collage
Tiger P.A.W.S. is a student publication composed of works submitted by students, reviewed and organized by a student editorial staff. The selected works may not reflect the attitudes or opinions of St. Philipâ€™s College or the Department of Communication and Learning.
Acknowledgments The Tiger P.A.W.S. staff wishes to thank the following people: Mary Cottier— Dean of Arts and Sciences Sean Nighbert—Chair, Communication & Learning San Juan San Miguel—Director, Writing Center Nereida Reyes– Senior Tutor, Writing Center Mitchell Miranda—Art Judge Thomas Reprographics
Editorial Staff Student Staff:
Lee Ann Epstein
Adam Reyes Ondrejia L. Scott Erica Thompson Jesus Torres
Table of Contents I Am—Mike Quigley…………………...…………...……………………..…..…
I Am Woman —Gwendolynn Powell…..……………………….……..
The Gift—Jesus Ramirez.………………………………….……………………
Give me Your Heart (Part II for Lovers)—Candace Kenton
Amber Glow of Spring—Serina Holder……………………….……...
Recreate Yourself—Roxana Del Valle Ramirez……………….…
Struggle with English—Melody L. Halsrud…………………….....
What if Everything Was Switched?—Josiah Robinson.....
Autumn Light—Marcella Gonzales………………………………..…...
Strong Woman—Melody L. Halsrud……………..……………….…..
As Smart as I Am—Dorothy Helen Henderson….……………….
nO tIME to Cry—Leatre Cooper…………………………….…...……….
Dark Skies—Mike Quigley…………………………...………..……………..
The Most Frightening Moment of My Life—Tania Ramirez
Ghostly Swamp—Gabrielle Hinojosa…….……………………...……
Why Does Love Hurt?—Victoria Torralva………………….………
Web Crawler—Marcella Gonzales………………….……………..…...
Dog or Wolf?—Marcella Gonzales………..…………………..…..…….
Me —Carmina Dominguez………………………………………………..…..
After Picasso—Mike Quigley……………………………………………...…
Cascading Rainbow Flowers—Melody L. Halsrud……….….
My One in a Million Love—Anastacia Casarez……………....…
Moon Lovers—Melody L. Halsrud.………..……………..……………..
That’s Texas for Y’all—Marcella Gonzales……………….………...
The Ones I Love—Carmina Dominguez…………………….………..
My Dear Uncle Migelo—Gladys Figueroa…………...………..…..
Smoke Break—Mike Quigley…………………..…………………………….
Redemption—Jennifer De La Torre………………………...…….……..
Table of Contents The Beautiful People of Lovely Lake— Hannah Lee Mahaffey…………………………………………..…
Lucid Dream—Vannessa Mejia………..……………………………….….
How Working in Childcare Helped to Change My Life— Ashley Howard……..…………………..………..…………………...
Better Days—LaTansha Mayberry….………………………………...…
Blue Tiger—Danielle Alonzo………………………………………………….
The Tiger—Dorothy Helen Henderson……………………………….
I Am Woman By Gwendolynn Powell "How did I end up here?" I asked myself as I was checking into the sanctuary. "Great; let's go see you're room. Well, your roommate's name is Katherine, and she's been with us for a little less than four months. You're going to be fine now," said the intake worker. I entered the room and took a long deep breath trying to regain my composure. "So when are you due?" asked my roommate. "Oh, in two months or so. My delivery date is November 23 rd," I responded. "Well, you're safe now. You should try to settle in some," said the intake worker. I set my trash bag of clothes down, thanking her for the available bed. "How did I get here in my life? Why is my life like this? I have to figure a way out of here." These were the questions that were running through my mind as I wandered the facility. All the other abused women seemed to be permanent residents here. No life skills, no real motivation to want to leave. Why would they? Everything was provided for, the food, clothes, transportation, and even cash money. Why would they ever want to leave? Not me though; I couldn't bear it to be here. This situation, gave me the incentive to do better, to be better, and I would be damned to allow my child to be born here. For eight years passing, I had been chasing after a dream, which was actually a nightmare. A person who I thought I needed, who I thought loved me so dearly. His love for me was so deep that he would say, "Girl, don't you know that I love you? I'd kill you if you'd ever leave me"; â€“a drug addict, a cocaine addict who I thought, through love, would be able to conquer his own addiction.
For eight years, I lived in terror, sleeping in gutters or, if I was lucky enough, a homeless shelter that would be willing to take us both in. On other nights, we would break into abandoned homes or try to stay with so-called friends, which I would ultimately end up regretting since they were more of the acquaintance type, who were also addicts. They were encouraging him to binge even more since users need other users to fuel their craziness. Anywhere and everywhere we went was temporary, especially since he just couldn't stop his possessive ways with me. People started to become afraid of him and couldn't stand to watch him manhandle me. He would graze his fingers over my scars, apologizing for his mishaps, but I never cried over my wounds. The visible marks were meager in comparison to the gash that was imbedded my heart. Cash was always scarce. I would do my best in trying to hide it from him, but then he would just beat me until I'd give it up. This sickening relationship lasted as long as it did, out of trepidation, the fear of losing my one true love. Yet at that time, I didn't really understand what love was supposed to be. My spirit and identity, destroyed and compromised. I was left as a mere shell of a person. I can't even say that I was a woman. Confused and forsaken, I was lost in my own hopelessness. Not understanding my true purpose in this world, I accepted my life to be this wayâ€”to never to speak, unless spoken to and be subjected to his daily body inspections. I didn't know that this was not considered normal. Nothing up to this point seemed abnormal until life was conceived within me. The realism hit when I felt my child move for the very first time. I was about five months pregnant when people started to notice my bulging hips and not so flat tummy. The increasing amount of food I was ingesting proved I was feeding two. I could feel her fingers strum across the inside of my belly. She would take her heels to push off my side and swim from my rib to my bladder to wherever. She gave me hope. Life was growing inside me. The excitement of pure unadulterated love began to grow from within and shined through me. It was then I realized who I was, and was supposed to be. A mother, her protector, her advocate, this was what was expected from me, and I was ready. When my daughter, Taki, arrived into the world, she command-
ed me to be brave, and so I did. She gave me the strength and guts to be someone. And most of all, she gave me the courage to help convict her father. He had been detained in jail for a period of five months by now. He was charged with "attempted murder" on me. It seemed that the state of Virginia had picked up my case, even though at the time of the incident, I had refused to bring charges against him. Out of sheer ignorance, I was oblivious to my own misery prior to her birth. This was the first step I needed to take to reclaim my independence. Through the court trials, I found my voice. I recall the feeling of peace coming upon me when the judge struck the gravel, stating, "You have been sentence to thirteen years, sir." Every ounce of fright and anxiety left me. I felt somewhat whole again. As I left the courtroom, I wondered to myself, "Now what? What to do?" I was lost, not knowing who I was or where I was going. This newfound freedom, assertiveness that she bestowed upon me, molded me into the woman I am today. With my hip-hop ways and hippie styles, I have come to be a care -free, spirited woman. I dress with assertiveness, and my language skills have become cultured through time and education. I act with thought and consideration, for everyone deserves to be treated with decency. I stand tall, head held high, because I know who I am. I came from the slums of Washington D.C., running through the shanty-shacks of Barry Farms. This little Asian girl with a heart of gold, but a fist of fury, had no face until now. I climbed out of the gutters of hell and rolled dice with the devil to reclaim my life. And I won.
The Gift By Jesus Ramirez
Everyone seems to think that freedom is free I only wish you knew how much it cost me At night when you close your eyes and you lay to sleep I sit awake and my heart and mind begin to weep You must be thinking to yourself man that is deep Trust me you havenâ€™t seen what I have seen Because if you had you would know itâ€™s much more than just deep I have seen the lives of men and boys stolen at their peak Their family and friends will never see them draw another breath Some think it was destiny or just their time for death The pain hurts so much but who can I tell who can I trust Are you going to be willing to go through hell For something that is supposedly given and not a big fuss Freedom seems to be a forgotten gift But not for those who gave their lives for you As their gift.
Give Me Your Heart (Part II for Lovers) By Candace Kenton Break away with me, take a leap of faith; give me your heart. I’ll be ever so gentle, like a renowned cardiologist, equipped for surgery, right from the start. You’ve loved and lost to someone in your past, carelessly without knowing the tragic cost. Be brave, be courageous, and valiantly stand, to show the naysayers, you will not give up or give in. You must believe you deserve love, that it’s true, and most certainly grand, that you are not a failure, but a soldier, fighting for your ‘pursuit of happiness’, with all of its perks and grandeur. I am your cheerleader, rooting for you even when times look grim and bleak; always believing the sun is just dawning and will soon peak. God could not have created a better match than you and I; He is the creator of all things and would never tell a lie. Now do you see, loves clarity? Your heart belonging to me and mine to you, is a universal rarity. When you finally realize and this simple fact is clear to you, only then will you know that I, my love, have been placed here, waiting, patiently for only you.
Amber Glow of Spring By Serina Holder
Recreate Yourself By Roxana Del Valle Ramirez Recreate yourself, no matter where you are or where you come from Recreate yourself, no matter how dark and complicated life seems Recreate yourself, that is what I hear today…recreate yourself. Recreate yourself; you can do it in many different ways. By putting “First Things First,” And what is that? I say It is educating your mind your heart, and your spirit all at once. Education will give you freedom and CHOICES! What a powerful word: “choice.” Oh, yes, I know what you are thinking, I have been there too! I made poor choices, and walked on the wrong lane But, I turned around and here I am. I choose to recreate myself, To educate myself, to finish my degree To be an example for my family, for you, and for me So, let me tell you, Take a minute for you and Imagine your life now, here, there, and also…far away Like many teachers will say today, “Keep the end in mind,” And I will add do not work too hard, just be smart And go ahead, recreate yourself!
Struggle with English By Melody L. Halsrud As a young child, I always felt like I was just like everyone else. I could climb a tree as well as any boy; I could ride a bicycle as fast as the wind, and I could even have a very lady-like tea party with my stuffed animals. Overall, I had a normal preschool life until I got in to second grade, and everything went wrong after that when I had to start to use more English. My experience with English has never been an easy road for me. Being dyslexic made it hard and a scary experience all through elementary, middle, and high school; however, college was a blessing in disguise. When I was in elementary, about the second grade, I found out that I was not quite like the other kids in my class. Everyone else in my class was not having as much trouble in learning to write as I was. In my class, my teacher was Mrs. Forest. She had dark hair frosted with gray that she always kept up in very tight bun. She had a very oldschool attitude, and also, she smelled of garlic. She was not very nice to me most of the time. First thing every morning in class, we had to write a sentence on the chalkboard using our spelling words, and most mornings she would pick me to go up first. I hated being up in front of the class. When I was up there, the letters would get all scrambled up. I did not know what to do. My hands would get sweaty, my stomach cramped up, and my knees were shaking; it was as if I was going to my own execution. Mrs. Forest would give me the look that could melt steel if she was unpleased with me. “You have not studied, have you, Melody?” Mrs. Forest bellowed. “This is not a game, missy. You’re being lazy, and do you want to be dumb all your life?” she continued. I said nothing; my classmates were laughing behind their hands while I just stood there and cried from the em-
barrassment. I know my face was as red as an apple that was on her desk. My family had enough of the abuse from school. They took me out of school and had me tested and found out that I have a learning disability called dyslexia. Later, I was put in a new school, but the damage was done. I stopped trying for the rest of elementary and all of middle school up till high school. I would rather get a zero in English than face the embarrassment again. I remember back in my first year in high school. It was the early ‘90s, and it started pretty much like any other school year. Girls were laughing with old friends, talking about their new boyfriends, showing off their new clothes, and boys talking about whatever boys talk about. I still felt very selfconscious around others. I was afraid of being embarrassed, so I tried to stay out of the way, not only with my peers, but also in the classroom too. Meanwhile, computers were starting to be used more and more in a school room setting. In addition, my school wanted to try out an experimental computer program to see if computers could help students with learning disabilities. The program was designed to help students in English, reading, and math. I was one of the first students to try this program. I was nervous, and some of those old feelings started to come back. I thought to myself “What if the teacher was like Mrs. Forest? What if he or she would make fun of me?” The first thing I saw when I walked in the class was the smiling face of my teacher, Mrs. Gill. “Hello, you must be Melody; you can call me Mrs. G. Pick any seat that has a computer at it,” Mrs. Gill greeted. I smiled a bit and looked around the room. The room was on the small size but nice with about ten desks, and five of these desks had a computer at them. Mrs. G had hung all kinds of encouraging phrases like you can do it, you rock, one small step at a time, and things like that. I was starting to think maybe she would not be such a bad teacher after all. When I
had started Mrs. Gâ€™s class, I was at a third grade level in English, reading, and math. As it got closer to the Christmas holiday, I was starting to get it. I was enjoying the class and my new teacher. I was excited to go to school. I started to open up some, get more confident, and start to make friends, but I was still a little hesitant when I had to answer questions. I felt myself growing as a person and as a student. I wanted to really try again to do better at my work. By the end of my freshman year, my grades had improved. Also, my English, reading, and math all went up to seventh grade level; I was so proud. Later on as I grew up, I decided to go to college to get a higher education for a better job opportunity. Most of my family whom I talked to about my decision said that going to college with my learning disability would be too hard, and that I would fail all my classes. But I wanted to give it at least a try. The first day at St. Philipâ€™s College, the school looked humongous; it made me feel a little intimidated by the school, not knowing what to expect. One of the classes I had to have was English lab, and I found a person there very much like my old high school teacher. Mrs. Miranda greets me with a friendly smile every day. She always encourages me, and the best thing of all is she does not make me feel like I am stupid or a fool. Any question I have, even if it is silly one about English, she will explain it to me until I get it. I think Mrs. Miranda is one of the reasons that I am doing better in college English. Even though I have had to struggle through English in elementary, middle, and high school, I know that college is a big stepping stone in my life that I will master, with high hopes. I have learned now that I cannot run away from things in my life that are difficult to do. I must face them and do the best that I can, and I can master anything, even English. It also helps to have great teachers and helpful resources to help you on your way.
What if Everything Was Switched? By Josiah Robinson
If everything in the world had been switched The directions in which things are driven and writ Some of us humans would no doubt have problems Looking for answers and not sure how to solve them Thus making ourselves undeniably crazy Still some of us however are undoubtedly lazy Don’t you dare get mad at me as if to judge I’m speaking the truth and from that I won’t budge ‘Cause y’all know that if the steering wheel was on the right Here in America people would freak out and want to fight And for them countries if the wheel was on the left They’d freak out worse than that “Boiling Point” chef And what if our writing was not only right-to-left but backwards too Can you even imagine just how much damage that would do? I mean seriously you’d have to walk up to a restaurant sign with a mirror To know where you were in the hopes that it would make it just a little clearer So with that said I hope your mind’s become just a little more open To the “What-Ifs” in life and to those thoughts that are most times unspoken
Autumn Light By Marcella Gonzales
Strong Woman By Melody L. Halsrud He says he loves me, but yet he hits, pushes, slaps me around, and says that it’s all my fault, that he had to hurt me. Where is the man I use to know as Mr. Right? Now in his place is Mr. Mean, Mr. Hurt, Mr. Ugly, and all together Mr. Wrong. I feel my mind slipping away slowly; losing pieces of myself. My body is sore; I am aching, and bruised. I look in the mirror and see a stranger looking back at me, where I should be. Where there was a happy, independent, and confident person, There was only a sad, unsure, and right down terrified individual. She had lost control of her own life. A person not allowed to go anywhere, to do anything, or wear what she wanted to wear without him there. Something in me snapped, a sparked, and a fire started inside me. There was a small piece of the old me still there that he had not crushed yet; A small whisper in the back of my mind, a mental shack of oneself; a voice if you will. “Hey you! Wake up! Look at what he has done to you. Wake up! Look at your kids; is this what you want for them? Wake up, and take control of your life again.” That’s right. It’s time for me to take back my life. I say no more of this abuse. I must fight for my children and for myself. I was a strong independent woman before he came into the picture, and I will be her once again. No more of his control. I do not need any man to control my life. I am a woman, I am a mother, I am strong, and I’m free.
As Smart as I Am By Dorothy Helen Henderson
As smart as I am Why do I make so many mistakes, that sometimes I just can’t even think straight? I should have graduated in 1998……… But it took to 1999 And yet, I still find myself in a life filled with binds Now I’m in college And I can’t even find my life partner to help fill me in life situational binds A problematic situation……. So I, therefore, struggle to do everything by myself and for myself And my pockets aren’t getting any deeper than I expect So I Drink wine and find all the time in the world to smoke on cigarettes IT’S BECOMING A THREAT! But still, I let people that are beneath me and my life goals linger the thoughts of death As smart as I am
I still struggle in today’s society trying to stay focused Will I ever make it? Well, let’s just say “HOCUS POCUS!” As smart as I am And as smart as I am I know that tuition is becoming another financial concern, but I have I learned from previous past mistakes, to lead me in a money filled with crime case? As smart as I am Let the government give me reparation for my forefather’s blood, of being so, so, degraded So, I pray to God that he lets me make it to a life that’s fruitful and filled with non-abomination As smart as I am As smart as I am I just can’t let anybody else know that I still suffer from child hood neglect That has pushed me to where I am now today and still find the time to smoke on them cigarettes As smart as I am
nO tIME to Cry By Leatre Cooper
I didn’t have time to cry. I had to walk.
Walk to keep from being hungry, walk to keep from being thirsty
I didn’t have time to cry. I had to walk to keep my Children from losing hope, from dying.
I didn’t have time to cry.
I Prayed! A poem written after Hurricane Katrina
Dark Skies By Mike Quigley
The Most Frightening Moment of My Life By Tania Ramirez Most people I know donâ€™t believe in ghosts or paranormal encounters. I was one of them. I used to laugh at people who talked about how they've seen ghosts or even the devil. I always laughed and made fun of them for being superstitious people and thought they were ignorant people who hadn't read enough books in their life. That was me until a couple of weeks ago. I started working at Las Palmas Bakery a month and a half ago. I'm the youngest of all the people who work there, and they picked on me a little bit. They said it was because I was the baby of the group. I didnâ€™t really care because they made me laugh instead of making me mad. But they started talking about some baker that had died there and how they could see him or have the feeling as if someone were watching every move they made. Of course I laughed and made fun of them for being scared of something that doesnâ€™t exist; the weird part is that they would just get really quiet and tell me, "Just wait. One of these days you'll see him, and you'll start believing in ghosts." To be honest, I thought they were crazy and a little bit stupid. How can you believe in such thing? Ghosts aren't real. When you die, you die; that's the end. There's nothing else to it. But time would prove me wrong. Two weeks ago, I was at work preparing to close the bakery since I and the other girl, Mary, are the ones that stay to close it or give the key to some of the bakers that sometimes stay overnight making the bread. We usually close at ten at night, clean the place, wash the trays, and go home around 10:30 p.m. That particular day none of the bakers had gone to work, and it was just Mary and me. I remember I was covering up some muffins when I saw a shadow walk to where the
freezer was. At first, I thought it was Mary who was trying to scare me, so I didn’t pay attention to it. But then I saw her in the front of the store, which is far from the freezer, and freaked out. I asked her, "Mary, were you just by the freezer like ten minutes ago?" "NO," she told me. "I was here in the front covering up some bread. Why?" I got the feeling that someone was watching me, my heart started beating fast, and my hands were sweating. I looked at her and said, "I saw someone walking to the freezer; I swear I'm not lying to you." She got pale and said, "It’s the baker! I've had the feeling of someone watching me all day!" I laughed a little bit since I didn’t think it was the baker at first. I was more afraid that someone had entered the store without us noticing. She was really pale and kept on saying, "I think you just saw the baker, Tania." Of course, I was getting an uneasy feeling about all of it. I just didn’t show her how nervous I really was because I thought she was trying to pull a prank on me or something similar. Part of my work is to wash the trays at night before leaving. To do so, I have to go to the kitchen that is in the back of the store, and it's far from everything else. That night I had left that for last when I usually do it first, but I was too scared to do so. At the same time, I knew I just couldn’t leave them dirty, so I decided to just go and get it over with. When I was finishing up washing them, all the lights went off, and I heard Mary asking, "Tania, I'm not ready! Turn on the light!!" I almost fainted and ran to the front of the store and told her that I hadn't turned off the lights. By that time, I was really scared and had started believing that maybe there are such things as ghosts. We decided to get out of there and go home. I live really close to the bakery. I just have to walk for five minutes, and
I'm at my house. But that night I was so scared that I called my mom to come and pick me up from there. When we were on our way home, I told my mom everything that had happened at work, and she laughed and told me, "I've never seen you this scared. I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts." I told her that I wasn’t so sure about what to believe now. She then told my stepfather Armando who reassured me that I was old enough and that I shouldn’t be afraid of those things that don’t even exist and that he was going to show me that it was all in my head. We went to our backyard where we have some construction lights since we're trying to build a garage there. He went and turned them off, and I saw him do it. Then he said, "We're going to talk to the ghost." Of course I was scared and didn’t want to do it but went along with it anyway. My stepfather stood in the middle and commanded in Spanish, "Baker, if you're here and need something, show yourself to us!" The second he finished the sentence, the construction lights went on. I was so scared that I couldn’t scream or even move. We just looked at each other with scared eyes for a few seconds. Then I decided that it was my turn to be brave and went to check the light switch and it was on! I almost cried because I had seen my stepfather turn it off! I started shaking and told him, "That's it; I'm going inside. You deal with the ghost!" and ran to my house. Nothing else occurred after that, but we couldn’t explain what had happened in the backyard and how it was possible that the lights turned on and the creepy feeling we got when it happened. I'm still not sure if I believe in ghosts. But, I respect what people think about the supernatural a lot more than I used to. And I promised myself I would never laugh at ghosts or people who said they saw something. This world is full of mysteries, and some things are meant to be respected and left unsolved.
Ghostly Swamp By Gabrielle Hinojosa
Why Does Love Hurt? By Victoria Torralva He tells me he loves me, but why does love hurt? He calls me mean things, and he breaks my stuff, which means a lot to me. Why does love hurt? He comes home late at night having one too many drinks. I’m tired; I’ve had a long day from work. He pushes me around and then throws me to the ground, He tells me in the morning he loves me, but why does love hurt? Why does love hurt? I’ve isolated myself from the ones that I truly love, knowing and feeling like I’m alone, But he tells me he loves me, and he tells me he’s the only one I need. But after a long day of having one too many drinks, He knees me in my face, darkness around the eye, and then I begin to cry. Why does love hurt? I’m tired. I begin to run, but I don’t know where to go. Where do I go? How do I tell someone? How can I explain? Will I get shamed? Oo, there he came, and there I go, He tells me he loves me, by then after having way too many drinks, I’m almost six under the ground. The morning comes. He tells me he loves me; when is this ever going to end? Why does love hurt?
Web Crawler By Marcella Gonzales
Dog Or Wolf? By Marcella Gonzales
Me By Carmina Dominguez
Some days are so hard I just have to restart Insecurities come at me left and right All day long, it's a constant fight Without You I don't know who I am Without You I could never understand Who am I? The girl with the mask The only thing I'm trying to figure out is this task Yet you see me as you made me One of a kind , beautiful kind Not a pretty face But an honest heart That's exactly where you want me to start You see what nobody sees You see the real me The me I try to hide The me who'd rather live a lie Unsure and always striving For the perfect body, hair, and face Unclear knowledge on who is driving The media wrapped in pretty lace Deep inside is the girl you formed The one inside my motherâ€™s womb My future You already know It's real life, not a TV show Pain and trials helped shape me By Your grace You saved me I will be myself and not her Who she is nobody is for sure And I will be the real me The me you created me to be Funny girl, quirky girl With the honest heart The one who loves You That's exactly where I'll start
After Picasso By Mike Quigley
Cascading Rainbow Flowers By Melody L. Halsrud
Color Pencil and Marker
My One in a Million Love By Anastacia Casarez From the day you knew I existed You loved me fully When I became a part of your life You cared unconditionally The time I first called you Your eyes lit brighter than stars Soon our lives entwined We became one I canâ€™t imagine life without you Impossible to even believe You brighten the lives of many Your smile excites a room Hugs that warm the coldest day Kisses that fight every fear Advice for every problem You always there You loved me today Care for me forever No other can compare Nor find another anywhere You showed me true compassion You are my one in a million love
Moon Lovers By Melody L. Halsrud
Leadership By Jose Rodriguez On April 27, 2013, I experienced one of the most exciting events that anyone could ever experience, winning a District Championship. That day that my soccer team made history is a day that will stay with me for the rest of my life. However, it was not just that day we won the trophy and respect; it was the whole experience of the last season that got us there. In the beginning, all our minds were set and ready. This was the year we had to give it all we had, especially me, for it was my senior year. I cannot explain it, but from the beginning, I felt we were going to do it. I had never before felt so sure about anything in my life. I never doubted it once. Yet it was a small, silent confidence, which I kept to myself. Although each of us was truly confident about winning district, we had plenty of work to do before we made it there. The very first week of practice was not at all how I expected things to start out. Being one of the five seniors on our entire soccer team, our soccer coach expected us to step up to the plate and show leadership for the rest of the lowerclassmen to follow, and that was not an easy task. There were about thirty-five of us and only two coaches. This meant that there had to be other leaders from the team to stand up and show that they could help out. I was one of those kids that never liked to take leadership out there in practice; I only worried about my performance and did not worry about anyone else. I was a good, smart player but lacked the most important
thing, which was what our coach wanted from us seniors, leadership. Our coach always had stations for different soccer drills and expected us to follow his rules, but the teams began to play their own little cascarita as soon as he left to another station. This really did not bother me because our senior group was always doing the drills, but then I started to realize as game time came closer and closer that the rest were not prepared. This made me react, and I went to have a talk with my coach. I explained to him what I had been seeing for the past couple of weeks and how the team did not feel like a team; it felt as if we were all strangers, only coping with the groups we were in. When I finally finished explaining to him, he looked at me straight in the eyes and then showed me a weird smile that I had never seen him do before. “I’ve been waiting for someone to finally show they care about this team. You think I don’t notice, but I do. I see a lot of disorder in this team, but I’m going to leave that up to you upperclassmen to figure out a way and fix this problem. I’m a soccer coach, and I will teach you everything I know. But I am not here to babysit and hold your hand when things are not going your way.” I could not believe he had said that. It felt as if someone had punched me right in my stomach, and I actually felt short of breath. This was my coach, my leader, my guide, and I never expected him to say anything like that. But I then realized what he had tried to say to me, and I had to fix this. That next day after practice, I gathered all the senior play-
ers and told them how I felt that we were not prepared as a team; we needed to get more involved with the rest of the players to have an idea of what their strengths and weaknesses were. This would give everybody a chance to see who actually knew how to play soccer not kickball. Many of them also felt the same way, so we decided to change things up. The following day we took complete control of the field. We stopped anyone who did not want to follow the game and actually ended up getting two kids kicked off the team. Things started to change a lot the following weeks; it actually felt like a team and began playing like one too. We spent a lot of one-on-one time with each player. We wanted to know what their goals and plans were for this team and asked how they were going to help make this team a winning team. Many of them had the right idea. They just needed guidance from someone, and that is when we stepped in. I realized how I had changed and started to look out for the players and kept reminding them to keep their grades up if they wanted to play in the games. I cared for them as if they were family and helped them out in any way I could. I felt proud of myself for standing up and doing something about it, not just relying on somebody else to hopefully do it for me. Our school soccer team had not won any trophies in the past seven years, and I say it was because of lack of discipline and leadership. Sometimes you have to get out of your own little world and get involved with everyone elseâ€”that is, if you want things to change, and that is how I changed. I started to look at things differently from then on. It was as if I could see the world in different colors.
That’s Texas for Y’all By Marcella Gonzales
The Ones I Love By Carmina Dominguez Since the day we are born We're never meant to be alone Family, friends, lovers too They pledge love, faithfulness But is it true? It doesn't matter they're the ones I love They're all sent from Him above Perfectly imperfect As humans tend to be We're all the leaves Branching from the same tree Unknowingly we hurt each other With words that pierce the soul Back and forth our hearts we murder To avenge ourselves is our main goal Ready to fight, ready to aim Our evil tongue ready to blame It's all just a lie That we want to deny But truth will set a chained heart free Ignoring all that the devil speaks Speak words of life and truly see That hate will only havoc wreak
â€˜Cause peace only comes when we let go Of all past hurts, memories, and tears Forgetting all, going with Your flow Loving till it doesn't hurt, till there are no fears So who are we to judge? What he or she has done? It's not worth holding a grudge What is worth it is to love To love the way that You love us Always faithful and forgiving Appreciating what is done Thankful for the life weâ€™re living
My Dear Uncle Migelo By Gladys Figueroa As I lay in my bed at night, I can’t help but think of how much I miss you. I remember all the good times I spent with you, from going to an Amusement Park to hanging out at family gatherings. I also remember when you got sick. Even then, you always kept a smile on your face. And then the worst happened. On January 6, 2012, as I am sitting at the house talking to my mom, we get the call—the call that broke my heart—to come say our goodbyes because you might not make it until the next day. As I am driving to your house, I remember shaking and being scared that I might not make it in time. When I arrived, I said my hellos to everyone and then entered to see you. I could not help but cry as the life of the man I saw lying on that bed was fading away, and there was nothing I could do. And then, it was time, time to say goodbye. I did not want to, but it was time to let you rest. The funeral was hard, and seeing you be buried was even harder. But I knew deep down in my heart that you were an angel in heaven looking over us. And I know that just like you brought us together here, you are building our homes in heaven so when it’s time to go, you will be waiting with open arms just like you did when you were alive. I just want you to know that I love you and miss you with all my heart, and we will meet again in the sky. Until then, I will leave you with what you used to always say to me, Dios te bendiga (God bless you) y pórtate bien (behave).
s geâ€™ Jud ice o Ch
Untitled By Dercy Perez
Paper and Ink Collage
s geâ€™ d u J e oic Ch
Unbelievable By Taven Dempsey
Up early for school Motorcycle will not start Unbelievable
s geâ€™ Jud ice o Ch
Smoke Break By Mike Quigley
Redemption By Jennifer De La Torre
Everyone is about the hype of what God wants us to be Yet with the decisions we make, they're ready to judge you and me When you're supposed to love your neighbor as yourself It's like they want to change everyone, except themselves They say He's the one who will judge us in the end Yet we can't say or do what we want; we're forced to pretend That our opinions are all the same But do you honestly think He'd be happy with our world if He came? Some people can't get married, and others are judged when they get divorced But doesn't everyone have a right to be happy and not be forced? Who cares if the person you love just so happens to be the same sex Are we really going to get involved with all these politics? Everyone wants to quote the Bible left and right
Yet we disregard everyone's opinions; it's like they're outta sight Even when it comes to a woman's body, everyone thinks it's their decision to make. They quote the Bible and say it's murder, but then they forget about fate. See, I think of things a little differently, that if the big man wants it, he'll find a way. That everything happens for a reason, each and every day. For once we need to stand up for what we believe is fair and true And I'm not saying this just for me; I'm speaking for you too So next time you want to judge someone, take a long look at your reflection Because when that day comes, you're the one who will need redemption.
The Beautiful People of Lovely Lake s ge’ Jud ice o Ch
By Hannah Lee Mahaffey
Have you ever felt like you don’t fit in? Have you ever felt like you don’t belong? Have you ever felt self-conscious about what you wear? If you answered yes to any of these questions, you are among the many teenagers or young adults who suffer from low selfesteem. Barbie Holiday is not one of these people. Barbie Holiday was a typical sixteen-year-old girl. She had long, beautiful blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and long, luscious legs. She was tall with a great tan and perfect teeth. She was the most popular girl in school. She was hot, and she knew it. She never had a care in the world. That was all about to change in about ten seconds. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE’RE MOVING?” Barbie screamed, almost at the top of her lungs. She didn’t have to worry about waking the neighbors because her house was thirteen acres away from everyone. She lived in a big house in the richest part of town. It was only five minutes from the beach, the mall, and her favorite sushi bar. She had it made. “Your dad got transferred to Michigan, honey; please calm down,” Mrs. Holiday pleaded, hand outstretched towards her daughter. “I will not calm down! My whole life is here! How can you expect me to just pick up and start over in measly old Michigan?” Blondie continued, nearly hysterical. “Oh, come now. You’re a beautiful young girl. You’ll adjust in no time,” Mr. Holiday said, stepping towards his daughter.
“It’s not fair. Daddy, I don’t want to go,” Barbie cried. She felt very sorry for herself. Poor Barbie sulked around the house for the next two weeks, packing up her home and ignoring the attempts her parents made to cheer her up. Barbie’s Dad left the week before to ready the house and start his new job. Barbie and her mother followed the week after with the movers. When Barbie arrived in Lovely Lake, her first thoughts were how quaint the little town was. It had a lot of tall trees. They were piney, and made her nose itch. They were tall and even a bit sinister looking, that is if you had a suspicious mind. However, there was no lake in sight. There probably was one at one time but not anymore. “I don’t want to go to school today,” Barbie whined at the breakfast table. “Honey, you’ll do fine. You’re ahead in your class, and you’re very pretty. You’ll make friends in no time,” Mrs. Holiday said, trying to comfort her sulking daughter. Barbie looked at her mother for a minute. She was an older woman, mid-forties. She had wrinkles on her face and limp, chinlength brown hair. She was sort of plain looking. Barbie couldn’t figure out where she got her good looks from. Her father looked just as plain and was overweight and balding a little. “Hurry up and finish your breakfast, dear. You’ll be late for school,” Mrs. Holiday said, giving her daughter a quick kiss on the forehead. Barbie did as she was told and grudgingly got ready and left for school. “Look at that nerdy looking girl over there,” Barbie snickered, pointing at skinny little girl with glasses and braces. Lily and Blanca laughed with her. They were her two slightly less pretty best friends. ”Look at that porky fat kid eating the doughnut,” Lily
joined. Lily had red curly hair and was shorter and a little plumper than Barbie. “Yeah, and look at his friend. Does he really think emo is in?” Blanca added, snootily. “The world sure is full of ugly people. Luckily, we are not in that category. All those losers deserve to be made fun of. My theory is if you don’t take care of yourself, you’re fair game. Those poor slobs, they don’t belong,” Barbie finished. “Falling asleep in class already, Ms. Holiday? Not the best way to start off at a new school,” said a loud booming voice out of nowhere. Barbie quickly snapped out of it. She had fallen asleep in class. “Look, she’s drooling,” a pretty looking girl sitting to her right called out. Barbie’s face turned red out of embarrassment. “Let’s not let it happen again. We can’t have lazy people dragging us down, now can we?” The math teacher said. Barbie was in shock that a teacher, of all people, would speak that way to her. She sat in her seat quietly, keeping to herself for the rest of the period. As she sat, she looked at her classmates. They all had flawless skin, perfect hair, and not one of them was flabby or fat. The girls all had big boobs and small waists, and the guys were all muscular and trim. Even the teacher was attractive. Was this a school full of models, or what? When it was lunch time, Barbie sat alone with her tray. She was deep in thought about how even the lunch lady was pretty when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to see that it was that girl who called her on her drool earlier in class. “You’re in my spot,” she said, crossing her arms over her
rather large chest. “I didn’t know our seats were assigned,” Barbie replied sarcastically, not getting up. “Listen, trailer trash, around here we do things a certain way. The ugly people go sit in the back next to the trash cans. They don’t speak unless spoken to. You don’t belong,” the girl icily retorted. She had steel blue eyes that were cold and hard, wavy brown hair, and the body of a playboy bunny. Barbie was taken aback by the girl’s comment. Everyone was looking at her now. They all looked so beautiful but so mean. Their eyes burned into her, making her feel naked and insecure for the first time in her life. “Look, she’s gonna cry,” a boy with black hair said, laughing. Barbie wouldn’t give them that satisfaction, so before she burst into tears she split. How could they be so mean to her? Who were they to judge her? Never once did it cross her mind that she used to be exactly the same way. The next couple of weeks were torture. No one was nice to her at school. The only time anyone even spoke to her was when they were making fun of her. Poor Barbie was all alone. Her mother had joined a women’s bridge club, and her father was always working. Barbie was completely isolated. For the first time in her perfect life, she was having it hard. As she walking down the street she took notice of her surroundings. Everyone was so beautiful here. Everyone was so perfect. She was lost in her own thought process, so she didn’t notice the garbage truck pull up next to her. She was so startled to see it that she tripped and fell. She landed in a pile of trash. “Move it, lady. Can’t you see that I’m trying to work?” Barbie looked up to see a handsome man, mid- thirties, glowering over her. He had sandy blonde hair and muscular arms.
He looked like he should be in the movies, not moving trash. Barbie quickly rose to her feet and picked the stray particles of trash off her dress. What is it with this town and everyone looking like super models? Were there no normal-looking people here, or what? Barbie continued her walk and ended up at a small outdoor café. As she sat at her table she noticed a mother fussing with her daughter. The little girl was about six and kind of chunky. She could overhear the mother criticizing her child. “Amanda, you’re so fat. You’re never going to be beautiful if you keep eating cake. Look, you’re getting a blemish. It’s embarrassing to be seen out public with you.” Barbie was shocked, and the little girl looked as if she were about to cry. What is wrong with these people? Everyone was so concerned with how they looked. “Why, hello there; I’ve never seen you here before.” Barbie looked up from her latte to see the most strikingly handsome man standing over her. He had jet black hair and crystal blue eyes. He was tall and built with cute little dimples in his cheeks. She was so shocked that someone was being nice to her that she just stared at him with her mouth open. “You better close your mouth, or else the flies will get in,” he said, grinning. Barbie shut her mouth. “My name is Damon, and I couldn’t help but notice that you were here all by yourself. May I join you?” he said, reaching his hand out to her. She kissed his hand, which made him laugh and her die of embarrassment. “I’m sorry; I have no idea why I just did that,” Barbie sputtered, face growing redder by the minute. “It’s cool. Surprisingly, this isn’t the first time that’s happened,” he replied casually. “I’m Barbie. Please sit down,” Barbie said, finally smiling.
“Pleased to meet you, Barbie. But why is a gorgeous young woman like you all by herself?” he said as he took a seat next to her. “I don’t seem to fit in, in this town. You’re honestly the first and only person who has been nice to me,” Barbie explained. “Well, that’s a shame. The people of this town don’t know what they’re missing. You’re a doll,” Damon said, grinning. Barbie was so happy to finally have a friend. She was really starting to relax when her cell phone rang. Barbie saw that it was her mother calling, so she politely excused herself and answered her phone. “Barbie, get your fat ass home this instant. Your father and I need to have a serious talk with you.” Her mom’s voice nearly shrieked over the phone. Barbie was speechless. Why was her mother speaking to her that way? She quickly said goodbye to Damon and ran all the way home. Before she left, however, she exchanged phone numbers with the handsome stranger. What is she? Stupid? Of course, she got his number. When she arrived home, she found her parents sitting on the couch. But to her shock, her parents looked completely different. Her mother went from plain to completely breathtaking. Her father did too. Her mother looked like a brunette version of Marilyn Monroe. Her father had regrown all his hair and looked dashing and debonair. “What happened to you two?” Barbie asked in shock. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you are too ugly for this family, and we are sending you away,” Mrs. Holiday said calmly while crossing and then uncrossing her now beautiful and shapely legs. “WHAT?!!” Barbie was dumbstruck. “Yes, your mother and I have decided that we can no longer tolerate someone with your unkempt appearance here in this household. What would the neighbors think? How would we explain you
to our friends?” Mr. Holiday continued. “Mom, Dad, what’s wrong with you? I’m your daughter; how can you treat me this way? Where will I go?” Barbie cried, nearly in tears. “You’re going to live with your Uncle Irving and Aunt Ida in Omaha. You’ll fit in better there on the farm, with the pigs. That way we won’t have to look at you. Pack your bags. Your plane leaves tomorrow morning,” Mrs. Holiday said. “Go to your room. We’re tired of looking at you. Your face disgusts us. Leave,” Mr. Holiday bellowed. Barbie ran to her room with tears in her eyes. How could they treat her like this? Why were her parents being so mean? What on earth is going on? Barbie threw herself on her bed and cried for an hour. She finally fell asleep. She woke up at midnight to a strange sound coming from her parents’ room. When she peeked into their room, she couldn’t believe what she saw. Her parents were glowing with what looked like some kind of smoke emitting from their mouths. Barbie screamed out of shock. She grabbed her phone and bolted out the door. She had nowhere to go and nowhere to turn. Just then she remembered her new friend. She quickly called him up. “Damon, please, I need your help,” she hysterically screamed into the phone. “Barbie, what’s wrong? What’s going on?” Damon asked with concern. It occurred to her that she didn’t even know herself. “Can you pick me up please? I need you,” Barbie begged. “Sure, I’ll be right there,” he replied. She gave him quick directions to her house, and soon he pulled up in his 2009 Jag. She didn’t really have time to be in awe over the car, so she jumped right in and they took off. They stopped on top of a hill. “What’s wrong Barbie?” Damon asked with concern.
“It’s terrible. My parents were so mean to me. Then, they were all glowing and crazy looking. It was so scary,” Barbie said with a shiver. “Your parents, along with almost everyone in this town, are losing their souls,” Damon said calmly. “What are you talking about, Damon?” Barbie questioned. “Your parents made a simple deal. Eternal life and beauty for their unholy souls,” Damon answered. “What? How do you know all this?” Barbie asked, more than a little freaked. “I know all this because…,” Damon paused for effect; “Because they made the deal with me,” Damon finished, giving her a sinister grin. “Everyone who comes here ends up making the deal. Now all I need is you, Barbie. What do you say? Do you want to be young and beautiful forever?” Damon asked, reaching his hand toward her. A year has passed in Lovely Lake, and everyone is beautiful. Barbie is back to being popular, and everyone is happy. Of course, she took the deal. She is blonde after all.
Lucid Dream By Vannessa Mejia
Toka By Destiny Luna
He thinks he owns me, when I have to clean the box. Who wields the laser?
How Working in Childcare Helped to Change My Life By Ashley Howard I have always put all of myself into everything that I do. Unfortunately, this was not true for about five years after high school when I moved to North Carolina and somehow lost my way in life. Throughout my stay in North Carolina, I had been going down a dead-end road to nowhere. Three years later, I left North Carolina and moved back to San Antonio, hoping for a life with more opportunities. Even after being back in San Antonio for two years, I still did not have much to show for my efforts. Working in child care changed my life, and helped put together the decisions I made after starting. My life started to change after I received a phone call from the Director of Religious Education at the church my mother attends. This was also the church I used to attend when I was younger. She proceeded to tell me about an open position in the church nursery. I quickly jumped on this excellent opportunity and began to look forward to working with this group of infant and toddlers. I found that I enjoyed being around little ones, but I had in no way ever been responsible for eight or more toddlers at once. I had to wait a couple of weeks before I started the job at the church. During this time, I remember feeling even more nervous than a kid on the first day of high school. I had no idea what to expect. In a way, I did not know how much this opportunity would change my life forever. The Sunday I was cleared to start work finally came; I woke up
extra early and was ready for whatever might be in front of me. I was extremely excited. I remember walking into the nursery thinking, This is it, and not really knowing what to expect. After a couple of minutes, the kids started to arrive, and I began to feel a tad bit more comfortable. After the morning was over, I realized how great it was playing with and teaching life skills to those toddlers. They have open minds, and every person in their lives has a great deal of impact on them. It was only after I realized this that I had to put my best foot forward and become someone that they could all look up to, not only change for them but also for myself. I was there every Sunday on time with things planned and activities for the kids. I finally had something I could look forward to every week. The nursery gave me a commitment, the young kids under my care that looked up to me and depended on me to be there. I started to feel a sense of stability in my life, as it laid a foundation for better things to come in the future. It has now been about two years since I starting that day in the church nursery. I have done a three-sixty throughout my life. Working in the church nursery has made me change not only myself, but has taught me a number of life lessons as well. Watching and helping those kids grow has given me great satisfaction, something that I do not think I could have received anywhere else. I have seen toddlers and infants come into the nursery, become potty trained, and successfully enter into the pre-k class. This year some of my former nursery kids are starting kindergarten. To this day, they still talk about me and the things that we did in class every Sunday. The fact that I also remember great teachers I had in nursery school gives me great satisfaction. I have now become that person for someone else to treasure and remember. I am helping to shape the minds of young children by teach-
ing them right from wrong, values that help to define a better person while helping them to become a great adult. Additionally, I have become much more punctual and found that I am a committed person from my experiences working within the church nursery. Eventually, I served another position at Zunicore, a cloud computing company, performing customer support services. I became the â€œgo toâ€? person my boss would call if he needed somebody to fill in on any shift. I was working twelve to sixteen hour shifts through the evening till the early morning. Without having those kids in my life, I would have never been ready for that kind of commitment. I eventually decided that I wanted to move on and find bigger and better things for myself. I was also given an opportunity to get my CPR and First Aid certification to advance my childcare skills. I would never have given a thought to getting this certification if I had not started working in the nursery. Getting my certification had piqued my interest in learning more about the medical field. I decided that I could help others even more with a degree in the medical field. I started looking into Medical Lab Tech, Radiology, and Diagnostic Medical Sonographer. I was not too sure what I actually wanted to study, but after some research and hard thinking, I decided on Diagnostic Medical Sonographer. I know now that I want to help people and that I want to further myself in life by doing something important. I believe that taking this first step will help me do exactly that by finishing an associateâ€™s degree program. After deciding that I wanted to pursue a career in the medical field, I knew there was only one way to go about this. I had already known I wanted to go back to school, but this is what gave me the
push to get my butt up and get with the program. I no longer had any excuse. I knew that I could do anything I wanted and that I learned the tools to succeed at whatever I decided to do. I enrolled at St. Philipâ€™s Community College in the fall of 2012. I started at the end of January. It did not take me long to start making straight Aâ€™s in all my classes. To my surprise, I was even making one hundreds in my math class! I had never been good at it in grade school. I finished the semester with a 4.0 GPA! I could not believe how far I had come and, most of all, that I had the courage and drive to achieve whatever I put my mind to. If there was one thing I needed in my life after being lost for a while, it was a push. I needed the encouragement my nursery job provided to show me that I have worth. Every Sunday that I walk into the church nursery, I look at those kids and think about how they saved me. They saved me from becoming someone who I was not, someone who I did not want to become. They brought my self-worth back and pushed me back onto the right path. I believe education is extremely important, but some things experienced in life cannot be found in a book or from a teacher. Some things come from the most unexpected places in life. Those lessons are just as important, or in my case, the most important life lesson to experience and learn from. Here I am now in the spring 2013 semester of college, blessed to be driving to school every day and waiting for what is coming next. I am excited for lifeâ€™s next lesson and how it will make me grow as a person.
Better Days By LaTansha Mayberry Because she spent half of her days in a daze, When I was younger there was no refrigerator to raid. This is a poem I wrote while sitting at my sister’s kitchen table taking out my braids, I just want y’all to have better days. Because I spent my latter days on a box spring mattress twin bed, My sister’s feet at the bottom and mine at the head. This is a poem I wrote while sitting at my sister’s kitchen table taking out my braids, I just want y’all to have better days. Because she did the best with what she had, Man, sometimes life can seem so sad. Because you see me from the outside and not from the in, So to you my actions look like sin. This is a poem I wrote while sitting at my sister’s kitchen table taking out my braids, I just want y’all to have better days. Better days for you and Antorius. Better days for you and Azire.
With Love, From your gurl, F.Y.I.R.
Damn By Priscilla Palomo
Phone rings across room Now I become a ninja I miss the call, damn
Rango By Marcella Gonzales
Our Judges Prose: San Juan San Miguel is the Coordinator of the Rose R. Thomas Writing Center at St. Philip’s College. He is also an Adjunct Instructor in the Communications and Learning Department. He has a Master’s Degree in English Literature from UTSA and a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English from St. Mary’s University. He enjoys traveling, cooking (and eating,) cycling, reading and writing but most of all basketball! He is currently in pursuit of his lifelong ambition to be an NCAA Division I Men’s Basketball Coach. Poetry: Nereida Reyes has been a staff member of the Rose R. Thomas Writing Center for twelve years. She is a St. Philip’s graduate who received a Bachelor of Arts in English from the University of Texas at San Antonio. As a great grandmother, she still enjoys swimming, cooking, writing poetry, reading, and dismantling the myths embedded in America’s so-called generation gap. Art: Mitchell Miranda is an award-winning artist, photographer, and graduate of St. Philip’s College. He earned a Bachelor of Arts in Studio Art with a minor in Great Texts of the Western Tradition and a Bachelor of Science in Cultural Anthropology with a focus on World Religion from Baylor University in May 2012. His studies have taken him to Europe and Guatemala. Recently, his artwork was on exhibit at Baylor’s Martin Museum of Art and the Hill Country Arts Foundation. He was awarded a Texas Emerging Artist scholarship from James Avery and the Texas Art and Craft Fair. Mitch is currently attending graduate school at the University of London’s University College Institute of Archaeology majoring in Middle Eastern and Eastern Mediterranean Archaeology. He FaceTimes his pet gecko, Little Man.
Blue Tiger By Danielle Alonzo
The Tiger By Dorothy Helen Henderson
The tiger is fierce in its approach to life circumstances Pouncing along the rough rigid mountains to devour its prey to undertake With a thunderous roar, it shakes and breaks the foundations under its grounds of meaning Seizing all of its foes to reconcilement, while still beaming and gleaming A tiger goes through the trenches of this world, to conquer all of its own desired glory, As a trailblazer through any kind of weather, while digging and seeping its claws into the soil in which it stands, and with every breath it takes; it takes to take in demand The mighty tiger is a creature that I, too, can see in thy own eye’s sight To roam the world with great ambition, while also yielding to plight The eye of the tiger is thy own eye that I seek, and while I strive to accomplish my life’s goals I know that I can achieve, The tiger is I and that Tiger is we.
Dedicated to St. Philip’s Tigers