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The Trillium is the official arts publication produced by the students of Trinity College. The ideas expressed herein are not necessarily those of the faculty, staff, or administration of the college. Entries are judged on the basis of creativity, thoughtprovoking ideas, and freshness of style. The student coeditors do not know who the authors of the entries are. Managing Editor:

Sara Garrison

Co-editors:

Samuel Cocar Peter Eckert Kimberly Probst Anne Vivirito

Typist:

Jasmine Kojis

Cover:

Pittsburgh by Jacob Sutton

Title Page Artwork:

Trillium by James Allen Class of 2004

Faculty Advisors:

Cliff Williams, Production Kristin Gumminger, Editorial

Copyright Š 2009. This material may not be reproduced by any means in part or in whole, without written permission from the authors. April, 2009


CONTENTS JOSHUA HELD

Appalachian Spring

4

HILLARY JONES

Supernova

5

JASMINE KOJIS

Jaguar

6

SAMUEL COCAR

Lord of Victory

7

SHARAYAH BERENS

The Timeless Villain

8

T. J. KAISER

Man of Steel

9

BRYAN ARNESON

Sheep and Goats

10

AARON LEGGETT

Intercession

12

JOSHUA HELD

Meditation on a Missed Sunset

13

MARY FLOWE

Tree

14

JULIE KEDDIE

Movements

15

JASMINE KOJIS

Pensive Darling

16

SHARAYAH BERENS

Mary: A Sister

17

SAMUEL COCAR

Yggdrasil

18

CHRISTIN BAYBA

Hard Day

19

KARA WALZ

Train

20


JOSHUA HELD APPALACHIAN SPRING Spiked peaks swell above modest hills, crowning undulating rhythms of nature, crowding across into high-rise abutments, sliding down forever into sludge of snow in spring, piling into an expanding dome, pulsing aggressive verve. Alive as Lazarus, emanating resurrected glory from the rocks, crackling across craggy columns and crashing into a splintered pool of deadened stones, dulled, plunged into piles of embarrassed drudge at mountain bottom. Haughty ridges sprawl pile after mile, nature’s favored pillars, sprouting Babels that ascend forever and ever.

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HILLARY JONES SUPERNOVA

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JASMINE KOJIS JAGUAR

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SAMUEL COCAR LORD OF VICTORY Let loose all arrows, for only then can Ends begin: Watchers, eyeful, march unveiled Ride on, armored seraphim. Ring clear, ring clear, and weary not, thou bell of started war! The Most High today in vict’ry rides: ring out His ancient score. The Son his scabbard-mouth unsheathes and judgment hums from every stroke; the blade that God my Master wields will today in men’s blood soak. He mixes wine of holy wrath and makes all nations drink the gall. The Son of Man for justice comes and so the proud of heart must fall. Dregs of death, dregs of death He tasted; now imparts. To whores and fiends and kings and queens and all wise in magic arts. Ring out, dear bell and sing, my harp ring out the ancient score: The Anointed in gilt triumph rides and evil is no more.

________________________________________________________________ SPRING 2009 • 7


SHARAYAH BERENS THE TIMELESS VILLAIN An incorrigible monster with a double-scarred face plods along at a perceptible, predictable pace. Cursed is he with a hunger that he satisfies without ever losing his appetite; he eats up flesh and architecture alike. His soul rages against brimming pools of sanity and blooms of mirrored vanity. It is through perception alone that our eyes meet, glaring behind veils of woven deceit. Disguised as wise Father in reality he mocks! Hear his baneful chuckle: “Tick, tock, tick, tock.”

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T. J. KAISER MAN OF STEEL

________________________________________________________________ SPRING 2009 • 9


BRYAN ARNESON SHEEP AND GOATS What does it mean to be saved? Is it more than just a game we play? —more than just a face we make? —more than just a word we say? Choirs standing singing praise, closing their eyes with both hands raised; ecstatic, reaching upwards; growing stronger, growing calmer; expounding sensitivity, upon serenity they trod. This even happens in a church, in a church without a God. What does it mean to be saved? Is it more than simply an excuse for me to be serenely insane? Is it in deacon Robert’s teary eyes? Has it ever been dishonest? Could we tell if it had lied? Does it grow on Sundays? Does it come on Christmas day? Do we really have a choice to live it any other way? What does it mean to be saved? Is it a feeling I can get any other way? Is it when my mind is set? Is it when I’m warm inside? Is it a silent “not-guilty” when my senses have all lied? “And yet I never knew thee”— that phrase sends me to hell. I’m alone under the gavel, ________________________________________________________________ 10 • THE TRILLIUM


at least, as far as I can tell. I can’t fight Kingdom Come. I can’t speak “justified.” I can only pray for mercy against my God’s stony eyes.

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AARON LEGGETT INTERCESSION

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JOSHUA HELD MEDITATION ON A MISSED SUNSET tonight was no faded ball falling from the orange-maroon Christmas tree of heaven; instead shown other ornaments— silver golden tinsel, angels funneling through clouds, evanescing, flickering candles whispering and humming. then the bulbs that hung on the very top of the sky flashed brighter, flaring to the edges of the night, lighting the way home.

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MARY FLOWE TREE Two friends, four arms, one mighty push And I was cradled in her branches I was a queen, a sprite, an infant She was my throne, my home, my mother Roots, eager for new soil Entwined so deep, so firm in me I am a willing, welcome captive Free within its wooden prison

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JULIE KEDDIE MOVEMENTS

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JASMINE KOJIS PENSIVE DARLING

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SHARAYAH BERENS MARY: A SISTER You dream in terrifying reality and speak in melodies that drift like the languages of the wind chime, yet you are quiet and avert your eyes. Your soul reaches the depths of a wishing well. The treasures that you lock inside of that music box are worth revealing; their silhouettes glide with you as you dance. A joyful spontaneity choreographs your life and maybe a selfishness that you yourself speak of. But everyone knows that it is through the crack in the sidewalk that the violets bloom and only you, in your beauty, would swirl colors of water in a china teacup.

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SAMUEL COCAR YGGDRASIL* Till the earth drowns in the sea my heart belongs to thee, Lord; till wolves lay down with lambs and we see thy pierced hands dear Lord, my heart is thine. Till the church becomes the Bride and the last of saints has cried till we touch thy wounded side, we are thine, Lord. For with Adam Last a tree returns to mend that torn asunder. His final breath the veil shreds and beckons heaven’s thunder. The Son of Sorrows wrestled death and bled to pardon thee. But hastens the day when all flesh bows ‘fore Christ: with sword, on steed.

*

A huge ash tree in Norse mythology that overspreads the world and binds earth, hell, and heaven together.

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CHRISTIN BAYBA HARD DAY

________________________________________________________________ SPRING 2009 • 19


KARA WALZ TRAIN

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Trillium Spring 2009  

The Trillium is TIU's undergraduate arts journal. Founded in 1985 and published each semester, it is produced by students and contains stude...