Innervisions 2022
Innervisions 2022
Villa Walsh Academy
Morristown, New Jersey
Literary Magazine Staff
Editor
McKenna Graf ‘22
Assistant Editors
Emma Kosc ‘23
Molly McHugh ‘23
Layout Panel
Martha Ainsworth ‘22
Hannah D’cruz ‘23
Beatrice Crucs ‘24
Laurel Hamilton ‘24
Madeline Knagenhjelm ‘25
Cierra Wolckenhauer ‘25
Shalini Patel ‘26
Sabrina Pasko ‘26
Literary Magazine Club
Erin Dolan ‘22
Renata Aviles ‘22
Katherine Ziwot ‘25
Alexa Barravecchio ‘27
Gabriella Farag ‘27
Lexi Stappas ‘27
Emma Naughton ‘26
Faculty Advisor:
Mrs. Ruthann Lanni
Special Thanks:
Sr. Elaine Bebyn
Mrs. Kimberly Cheifer
Mrs. Trisch Lagana
Mrs. Jennifer Hornyak
Mrs. Stacey Grabowski
Writers and Artists
Clara Ainsworth page 16 page 17 page 21
Ithaca, my Ithaca page 32
Martha Ainsworth Sonnet page 39
Olivia Aragon page 15 Sonnet page 35 page 42
Erin Aroneo page 28
Miranda Aviles Doll page 25
Renata Aviles page 36
Olivia Barsemian page 19
Hannah Blauvelt page 37
Mary Bowers page 40
Sarah Chambeau page 32
Anna Collins page 12
Catherine Collum page 9
Annie Connor page 32 page 34
Mary Connor Sonnet page 35
Emily Costello page 31
Sarah Crofford page 15 back cover
Beatrice Crucs
The Red Balloon page 10
Hannah D’Cruz
The Bracelet page 24
Erin Dolan page 12
Katie Eagan page 16
Alissa Eisenhart Sonnet page 38
Chiara Fajardo page 14 page 26
Elizabeth Foldy page 35
Abigail Freshwater page 11
Lynette Gao page 31 page 33
Julia Gitto Daughter of Light page 9 page 38
McKenna Graf
18 and looking back page 16 my mess is yours page 18 in the woods page 20
Cadence Graf page 27
Brianna Hetherington page 38
Isabella Jambrina Metamorphosis front cover page 29
Katie Jones page 41
Sofia Jordao page 12
Francesca Kearns page 34
Madeline Knagenhjelm
Why Am I Afraid of the People Behind Me? page 23
Maggie Kovachik page 31
Ines Lemee page 32
Bryanna Liu page 29
Eve Loughran page 26
Agustina Martinez-Ferretti page 12 page 33
Molly McHugh page 35
Lily Meier page 25
Elizabeth Moronski something that I love page 13
Emma Naughton Chains in the Forest page 37
Malia Nugent page 17
Meaghan O’Malley The Train page 30 Christmastime page 36 page 39 page 41
Sabrina Pasko The Realization page 19
Nadia Pinsonault page 18
Avery Poruczynski
Counting the Days Without You page 22
Cora Reardon page 19
Maya Rocco page 42
Teagan Sameth page 36
Maureen Simonet page 28
Mary Simon page 23
Claudia Steinberg page 33
Elizabeth Treacy A Snowflake’s Journey page 36
Natalie Vanella page 25
Juliana Venutolo Sonnet page 38
Avery Walsh page 13 page 40
Nina Waters page 11 page 15
Lilianna Wendorff Remember to Breathe page 42
Morgan Williams page 24 page 28
Sarah Wojick page 14 page 35
Katherine Ziwot What I Love page 27 I Remember Those Days page 40
Daughter of Light
Julia Gitto’24
O Daughter of Light, Who flickered in faith before steadily shining her brightest.
O candle from the flame of God,
Who so followed the light of the world, that she reflected His shine to all.
O beacon on a hill,
Who became a ray of hope for all, and brought light to the lives of all whom she touched.
O Lamp of God’s Word, who so brilliantly illuminated the path for others and showed them the Way.
O Bright Lucia, whose very name came from light, who shone so brightly that she taught others to shine as well.
O steadfast disciple, who kept her eyes on the Light despite the darkness around her and refused to hide herself under a bushel basket.
Teacher and yet student, sinner and yet saint.
Saint Lucy, show us the Way, the Truth, the Light.
Catherine Collum ‘24
The Red Balloon
By Beatrice Crucs ‘24
The day was sent from heaven. Desperately bright, yellow, red, and blue. I did not think to bring my shades, the days have been cloudy lately, the sunhat from Grandma will have to do. The clouds are white, the earth is soaking up the sun, and I am going for a walk along the road. The one with the wide grassy green field on my right, and the deep blue sea on my left. Oh those clouds. There is a balloon, a shiny, happy, red balloon floating up there deeper up into the sky. I imagine the feeling is similar to that in dreams, not really knowing what is going on, drowsily drooping. I should really be holding onto something, and away you fly. Out flies my towel, out comes the novel and I sit down. On top of the green grass. Across from the blue sea. Under the white clouds. The yellow sun. All drowsily drooping, leaning back and soaking in the day from heaven. The red balloon is floating deeper and deeper into the sky and lazily drowsily away we go, leaping and lurching up to the sun.
That is a red balloon up there. It's floating into the sky. Grandma says that means a wish, but what for? All day seems to go by, and no more wishes, they’ve all floated away. I must follow it, I must follow hope. I don’t understand why I don’t just float up there, to the sky, where all the wishes go. I must follow that red balloon to the end of the road, on forever. Fluttering away the days, up in the sky. Nothing in particular, the clouds float by. Sweet, sweet, sweetest of fluttery wishes. My only hope of a wish is floating up away into the sky. Go then, flutter away. My one wish, for hope.
That is my red balloon up there. I don’t really understand why it had to go. I stop my bike and call to Mike. He grunts and doesn’t understand. That is my red balloon in the sky. It slipped away when I handed it to Grandma, in the park by the lake, in front of my friends. Five minutes ago I left, hopped on my bike, followed closely by Mike. Odd that it traveled so slow, hazily up into the sky. That red balloon, that brilliant sky. Gosh, I’m beginning to see dots. “Oh well.” I say hopping onto my bike, “Mike, let's go enjoy this heaven of a day.”
Nina Waters’22
Abigail Freshwater ‘23
Erin Dolan ‘22*
Agustina Martinez-Ferretti’25
Anna Collins’25
Sofia Jordao’25
Something that I Love
by Elizabeth Moronski ‘22
There’s something about a wooden canoe on a foggy lake
A sense of peace that is unattainable anywhere else.
There are leaks in the boat and your shorts are getting wet
But the memories are irreplaceable
Knowing exactly how the boat responds to the slightest movement
Skills tuned over years of practice
The thrill of paddling river rapids in a downpour
But also the calm of floating with a friend in the lake
The quiet conversations as to not disturb the geese
The haunting wail of a loon miles down the water
The joy of learning a new skill that previously seemed impossible
Whenever life gets tough
Or a little too boring
My mind wanders back to those foggy days in wooden canoes.
Elizabeth Moronski ‘22
Avery Walsh ‘23
Chiara Fajardo ‘23
Sarah Wojcik ‘23
Nina Waters ‘22
Olivia Aragon ‘22
Sarah Crofford ‘22
18 and looking back*
by McKenna Graf ‘22
I remember screams meshing with laughs, bare feet slapping on the floor as I run with a naked doll clutched in my hand.
I remember pretending, wishing, hoping, I was OLDER. I was always the mom when we played “house.”
I remember laughing at every single thing you said.
I remember crying when I had no friends.
I remember Christmas’ with my family, when I felt more love than I could fit in my ( hands, It overflowed and tickled my toes ).
I remember reading about fairies from Pixie Hollow, but my first book-- a dragon’s egg rolling away from home.
I remember never wanting to leave home, thinking I could stay attached to my mom’s leg.
(If I just hold tight enough!)
I remember my first day of kindergarten, the smells of glue and goldfish are stuck in my nose.
I remember the way my hands excitedly wrote across a page, where I wrote asking someone to be my best friend.
I remember the stupid happiness I felt when she said yes.
I remember dancing aimlessly with my sisters, In the moonlight pouring through the living room windows.
I remember pretending to hold textbooks in my arms, as I walked the halls of my pretend high school.
Clara Ainsworth ‘25
Katie Eagan ‘24
how quickly I will walk out my real high school, into a new journey where high school will be what
I’m remembering,
(If I just hold tight enough!)
I don't remember saying goodbye to my Childhood, but on this page I give it a kiss and a hug.
you always were mine, you’ll always be mine.
Goodnight, I’ll see you under the next moon.
Clara Ainsworth ‘25
my mess is yours*
by McKenna Graf ‘22
i can’t find the right words the shadows are spiraling in my ears and the cursor is blinking back at me tauntingly i don’t know how to say “goodbye, but it’ll be alright” because i don’t want to and i don’t believe it calling you on the phone won’t be the same when i used to look down the hall and just call your name
i’ve got countless words to say and not enough time to write non-stop i think about the time i spend with you all my time is spent on movies, popcorn and you all know how to make my day make me feel okay let me know when things need to change
i don’t want to change i don’t want things to change but you taught me that there’s a difference that there’s a significance in the change in me and that the real things never really change
you told me once when it all gets too heavy, and the weight of the floating planet is on my chest, to look out to the horizon, and let the cloud covered mist shelter me, or the cover of night clothe me.
i’m looking out at the sky, i see you in the clouds and mountains come september i’ll see you in the leaves as they fall on the ground ill grab them in my arms and feel you all around
im sorry that i’m leaving you behind i’m sorry that i can’t take you with me as much as i might try i promise to paint the pictures with the brightest colors i can find and most precise brushes around i’ll be sitting back at the dinner table and you’ll interrupt me every time but i’ll make it so that you feel like you were there because i care because i want you there
Nadia Pinsonault ‘24
The Realization
by Sabrina Pasko ‘26
Flowers have petals but they fall off before they are replaced
We are each other in the realization that we will never be what we want to be
No matter how much we try
Now, won't last as long as we wish
Olivia Barsemian ‘27
Cora Reardon ‘25
in the woods*
by McKenna Graf ’22
1. Gold petals everywhere, A drop of blood,
Her head whips around to see the man running behind her. He carries a knife in his right hand and a wicked grin is plastered on his face.
“You can’t run forever,” he laughs. My foot gets caught on a rock. All I wanted was to see the sunflowers. To see the sun and the flowers. How naive of me to think I could have seen it one last time.
Blood drips from my nose onto the golden petals surrounding me. I let them swallow me whole but I can’t escape the glistening knife coming for my heart.
2. A branch cracks, A body is taken out to the lake,
I thought it was all a joke. I thought that it would be funny. We would take her out to the woods and make her think we abandoned her. She was just so weird and easy to mess around with. We thought it would be funny.
But then John’s neck snapped.
And Greg’s neck snapped.
I was next, I knew it.
She stood there by the fire, her hair ending in flames, and wild eyes searching for me.
I felt it when her eyes locked on mine. There was something in the back of my mind like a claw dragging it’s way down my brain and to my neck-Adrenaline pumped through me and I ran. But I tripped on a branch. With my hands to the sky I fell forward and for a second I thought I felt the clouds. Tauntingly soft and welcoming. Then my vision went white and blue darkness enveloped me.
3. Creatures whisper, and a mind breaks.
I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m covered in dirt and no one understands. I can’t be clean! No one hears, no one sees. The bird sits on the perch and laughs. Laughs at me and my friends that he can not see. But I see them. I’ve been here for so long. I’m not allowed to sleep!
No sleep.
Never clean.
Not mean.
He does not understand. He doesn’t follow the rules.
I’ve been here for so long.
long.
He perches on a branch for all to see. He doesn’t follow the rules. He kisses me on the eyelids--
No, he pecks me on the eyelids.
Suddenly I can not see beyond the blood dripping down my face.
He broke the rules!
I can’t be clean!
I’ve been here for so long.
Now bathed in my own blood I am free.
The woods tell secrets in the dark and bury them under leaves in the light. It whispers in the breeze what you want to hear so that the vines can wrap around your feet keeping you there. You’d like to think there’s just beautiful trees but there’s always much to fear.
And your time is drawing near.
4. a story ends, ink poisons the brain
Clara Ainsworth ‘25
Counting the Days Without You
Inspired by The Odyssey
by Avery Poruczynski ‘25
7,305 days since I last saw your face
Twenty whole years I’d like to erase.
Some say I’m deranged or out of my head
But I would wait forever if it meant you weren’t dead.
My heart, even now, ponders where I went wrong
For what reason did you vanish and abandon our son?
I taste salty tears as they stream down my cheek
Mourning in my bed week after week.
Your scent lingers in the air around me
Just one last hug and I’ll be complete.
Wherever you are, no matter what the time may be
WhyAm I Afraid of the People Behind Me?
by Madeline Knagenhjelm ‘25
This is new. Maybe.
The fear is new. Maybe.
The laughter is new. The people are new. No, this is the same.
I feel the same that I did before, when I knew they were laughing at me.
Now, I do not know. I hear, But I do not see. And I do not know.
This is why I am afraid of the people behind me.
I flinch, waiting.
This is why I am afraid of the people behind me.
I am not the subject of the conversation. I am not the subject of the laughter. I am not the subject of the whispers. I am not the subject.
Why do I feel like the subject?
The conversation swells. The conversation fades, Like rain on a tin roof, Quietly calm. It swells. It swells. It swells.
I am tense, rigid, unmoving, as I hear the conversations behind me. The conversations bubble up, bursting with sound. Loud, raging, ravenous, jingling, crashing laughter. Then they are quiet. Dormant.
This is why I am afraid of the people behind me.
Because I do not know. And it swells. Swallowing me.
Mary Simon ‘22
Hannah D’Cruz
On a cold day in November, a bracelet sat on a display by the cash register in a department store. It had been sitting there for months - almost a year. Last year, it thought to itself, everyone had wanted itor at least, everyone had wanted one of its kind, a colorful, DNA-like series of plastic twists. But after a while, the bracelet noticed that fewer people stopped to fiddle with the mesmerizing jewelry. It seemed that everyone who wanted a bracelet had one. It had ceased to be fashionable.
This little bracelet was amongst the last of its kind that was still being sold. Occasionally, a restless child waiting in line with their parents would fiddle with it. But as the bracelet watched shopper after shopper walk away, it doubted that it would ever find a permanent owner. What would happen to it? Would it be thrown out, simply because no one wanted its outdated style anymore?
Lost in its dismal thoughts, the bracelet barely noticed as a woman, weighed down by an armful of children’s clothing, passed by the display. Suddenly, it felt the cardboard box it rested on sink away as it was lifted into the air.
“I didn’t know you still sold these,” it heard a voice say.
The woman was holding it above the counter and addressing a sales clerk, who was ringing up a pile of clothes for her. He glanced up, busily removing tags and scanning items. “Yeah, we still carry one or two. They went out of style a while ago. A lot of people bought them last year, though.”
One or two? The bracelet was annoyed: did no one even notice that it sat alone on its little stand? It waited impatiently for the woman to put it back down.
“That’s so funny. My friends and I are planning to wear this kind of bracelet for a party next week, so we’ll all match. And one of my friends can’t find hers. She was so upset about it.”
The bracelet felt itself moving again and waited for the familiar dull “plop” as it was returned to the cardboard box, but to its surprise, it felt the solid surface of the counter instead.
“I think I’ll buy this bracelet and give it to my friend. It’s just so perfect that you have one here,” the woman said.
Even though it was out of fashion, the bracelet was ecstatic!
Doll by Miranda Aviles ‘25
I want to name her Rebecca! I stared at Rebecca’s peculiar eyelids and hugged her tight as if she were a real person. From that moment, Rebecca became my best friend. I took Rebecca everywhere with me. I bought her a house. I made her a bed that lay next to mine. Then I introduced Rebecca to a friend. Rebecca met Kit.
My sister and I played with Kit and Rebecca every day. They were the water to our childhood. Then, suddenly my sister moved on from Kit. She disregarded Kit and left me and Rebecca alone. Three years later, I left Rebecca.
My childhood joy was suddenly disappearing amongst the clouds. Rebecca laid in my dad’s closet without use, wanting to be played with once again by sticky human fingers.
Lily Meier ‘25
Natalie Vanella ‘22
Eve Loughran ’27*
Chiara Fajardo ‘23
What I Love
by Katherine Ziwot ‘25
I love it when beach waves crash against the shore.
I love the scent of summer rainstorms as they begin to pour.
I love it when snowflakes fall from the cloudy grey sky. I love the sound of my mother singing a gentle lullaby.
I love it when sunsets paint vibrant colors in the clouds. I love the stars and the moon as the darkness surrounds.
I love it when the wind blows through my hair.
I love the earth around us of which nothing can compare.
Cadence Graf ‘23
Erin Aroneo ‘23
Maureen Simonet ‘23
Morgan Williams ‘22
Bryanna Liu ‘26
Isabella Jambrina ‘22
The Train
by Meaghan O’Malley’24
8 o’clock, hotel by 9, dinner 9:30, bed 10:30, asleep by…2 am? Why can’t I sleep? Sam can do it just fine and she’s half on Jack, half on the train bench and her arm is… across me, Lily, and Grant? Oh, I’m the only one still awake. They’re missing this view, rolling hills, a tiny port town, the flaming sunset. I want to stay here forever. 1, 2, 3, 5 weeks left, Switzerland, France, Poland, Germany, Iceland? No, Norway. I want to stay in Italy. Wait, where in Italy am I? Who cares? Wherever I am I want to stay here. The Underground is ratty and all the crazies live there. No, Luke, you’re lying to yourself, you want to work 9 to 5 Monday through Friday for fifty years with maybe 4 weeks of vacation within those 50 years. I can't, I have to, I won't, I will, I will, it’s inevitable. Get it out of your head, no simple life, no peaceful train rides over rolling hills, no little port town. I’ll get up, walk through the same path, get the same coffee, same breakfast, see the same people all while walking through the huge trenches formed by my daily commute. Aww a baby, if he can sleep why can't I? Oh nevermind he can't sleep either. Shhhh, shhh, I need you to stop, you can go to bed soon. C’mon Luca. Sh, sh, sh. He’s one tomorrow as if he wasn’t born yesterday. Should I get a cake? Mom said babies his age shouldn't have sugar but it’s only one time. Sh, sh, sh. I mean it’s not like he’ll get addicted to sugar from one cake and it's a special occasion. Sh, sh, sh. Is a one year birthday party tacky? I don’t know, it’s special and it’s not like people will be there except us. Shhh you’re disturbing these people. He won't even remember it, but I’ll get a picture or two, he’ll see them in the album one day. I'm sure he’d be grateful, no matter how small or processed the cake is. Will the family come? They never do… oh who cares! He’s my baby, the people on the train don’t matter, my family doesn’t matter, sugar doesn't matter, no one cares about a one year old’s birthday, but who cares! Ah he’s quiet. I’ll get the cake, spend the five dollars, get the picture, only Luca matters. He’s only one for so long and we don't have forever. Why do expectations get in the way of living life? If I listened to every thought that crossed my mind I wouldn’t be able to move, let alone feel like I’ve lived. Oh Luca please take a nap.Woah. That woke me up. Let’s see…8:10, about 10 minutes until my stop. Oh my, the train has changed since I got on. Those kids have had a long day, I miss those days. Remember that day in June when we all spent the entire day at the lake and only got home by 11. Or spent the entire night at the beach just because we were young. Well that had to be, 50 years ago. I guess that’s all past me now, I couldn't say where any of those guys are now, Venice, Paris, New York City, Heaven, probably Hell for Jerry. Ha, no I remember him at the market the other day. Why do I look back so often? Are there not memories to be made now? The sky is a flaming orange, there’s an adorable baby right next to me, there’s a walk home ahead. I have life yet, and the life I’ve spent is behind me or kept in my pocket for safe keeping. Who says I can’t change now, dye my hair, take up piano, paint the walls hot pink. I’m seventy now, yes, but I Have today, the people around me, the memories behind me and the walk ahead. Yes, the walk ahead.
Lynette Gao ‘25
Ines Lemee ‘25
Emily Costello ‘23
Maggie Kovachik ‘23
Ithaca, My Ithaca by Clara Ainsworth ‘25
Ithaca, my Ithaca, You’re just like a star in the sky. I want you, I need you, But you’re just out of reach.
Ithaca, my Ithaca, The whipping wind on my face, As I see you disappear. Feeling betrayed and lost, As I find a new way home.
Ithaca, my Ithaca, Feeling pain at the cost of this journey. The blood that’s been spilled, The sacrifices that have been made, But you are still not there.
Ithaca, my Ithaca, Gifts of great value, And food of splendorous taste. Friends have been made, And blood has been paid, I just want Ithaca once again.
Annie Connor ‘24
Sarah Chambeau ‘24
Lynnette Gao ’25
Claudia Steinberg ’25
Agustina Martinez-Ferretti ‘25
The Mirror and the Heartbeat
By Molly McHugh ‘23
I look around and meet my mirror
A perfect, perfect mirror
Same brown hair, same sparkle in their eye
But there’s something different
Something that sets them apart
Something that placed them on a pedestal
Something that no matter how hard I tried I could never attain
This perfect, perfect mirror
The unattainable twin flame
A heart that beats with the same cadence
But a head that reflects a different frame
Their head is spotless and pure
Without the denial or the pain or the sorrow
Without the shadow and blue and black
Pluck out my heart and hold it out in my hands
I ask, Is it enough? Is the bright red pulse enough? Are the tears and years of work enough?
Is the pumping in and out that fuels my lungs enough? Tell myself I’m not a monetary worth
That the steady pulsating beat is enough
But who could say a fractured mosaic is perfect When it lies next to a polished mirror?
But my heart beats, soft but sure
Enough, not because of a number or an opinion
Not because of the presence of perfection
But because of that steady, rhythmic beat in my chest.
Annie Connor ‘24
Francesca Kearns ‘23
Sonnet (from “Love is a Game” byAdele)
By Olivia Aragon ‘22
My love, in your eyes, is impossible Defeated in trying to appease you I lack strength: leaving me incapable Of breaking the cycle that leaves me blue.
All of my heart aches for the lies you tell Why can’t anything about love be fair? My heart is left for only you to sell After leaving me numb what do you care?
No amount of love keeps me satisfied. Like a fool learning the rules of this game Not to love you, but to love me I try. Learning self love no longer left me lame.
Only fools self-inflict the pain of love I am that fool, for I put love above.
(from “Feels Like Summer” by Childish Gambino)
By Mary Connor ‘22
It feels like summer, humans love the heat. And what’s not to love about the summer? Without a sweat, the season’s incomplete. We come alive, but minds in a slumber.
We ignore a couple of degrees, that every year it gets worse for our health. It is our job to be a thermostat, But we let the temp’rature change itself.
Years later it still feels like summer, but the immense heat is now unbearable. Our indifference has put us in a rut. Five years and change is unrepairable.
The truth is that our earth is ever changing. The world needs to keep up but time’s draining.
Sonnet
Sarah Wojcik ‘23 Elizabeth Foldy ‘23
Christmastime
Meaghan O’Malley
’24
The last drained leaf floats down onto the ground, A fresh spell of peace spills out through the trees. The wind is filled with a jubilant sound, Have you seen the joy of all on the streets?
The church’s bells ring when the clock strikes twelve. Families gather in their love filled homes, They tell tales, gaze at the past on their shelves, special nights like this in the house’s bones.
Soft music plays throughout a warm, dark house. Our loved ones sleep restlessly in their beds. While waiting for a sign of Santa Claus. We think we hear hooves, is it in our heads?
With love in our hearts and songs in our minds, We reminisce on this year’s Christmastime.
A Snowflake’s Journey
Elizabeth Treacy ’24
As I plunge from the dark and endless sky I nervously wonder where we will go If only my best friend could clarify My heart beats quickly when she is gone though
I realize many others are near A lovely snowflake gently grasps my hand I see that the sky is now crystal clear And she soothes me before we softly land
On top of a small child’s head we sit The soft layer of his hat comforts me My new friend now warns me this might be it I know it is true and sadly agree
I say one last farewell to the snowflake As the cold heart within me starts to ache
Teagan Sameth ’25
Renata Aviles’22
Chains in the Forest
By Emma Naughton ‘26
I was walking in a forest full of color. There were many unique paths, each going in different directions. I walked whichever way I wanted to and it was great. I thought it was all bright and pretty, like in the movies, but I didn’t realize that one wrong turn could send me down a darker trail. One day I was faced with two different paths, a fork in the road if you please. One path was filled with bright red trees and the other was filled with leaves of green.
I stood in awe at the paths, it was as though I was standing between two different dimensions. I looked around for a little while trying to decide which path to choose. It was hard to decide because they both seemed so nice and inviting. In the end, I chose the red one, what a mistake. I thought it would be a piece of cake.
As I walked along the red path I noticed a small object glinting in the sunlight. From a distance, it looked like glass does when it’s embedded in cement. Shining faintly, but bright enough for you to notice out of the corner of your eye. I walked closer to the shine and realized that it was a chain link, lying alone in the brush. I picked it up and held on to it. It felt cold against my palm and I was pondering it so deeply that I didn’t realize that the sky around me had gotten darker the moment I had picked up the link. I kept on walking along the red path and finding more chain links. Every time I picked one up they connected and the sky became ever so slightly darker. After a while, I was walking around with a growing chain of my choices. I had many chances to drop the chain and leave the red path. It was astounding how many people tried to guide me off. One person even tried tugging the chain right out of my hands.
I kept on walking on and on, picking up more links and ignoring every side path that popped up. For years I walked along the red path and my chain became so long that it was almost too hard to carry anymore. Even then, I continued down the red path that I was too stubborn and closed-minded to leave.
One day it had become so dark that I could barely see where I was going. It was so dark that on a curve in the path I walked straight into a large tree. As I collided with the tree I suddenly realized that I didn’t have to be putting myself through this pain. I didn’t have to continue to carry the chain if it made me so miserable. It was at that moment that it finally dawned on me that nothing good could ever come from this darkness.
I stumbled around for a while in the dark trying to find my way out of the path. All of a sudden, I see a faint glow coming from up ahead. I prayed that I was close to finding my way out of this awful morose. As I got closer I could see that the glow was sunlight coming from a new path. I started running towards it, and I threw my chain into the abyss of the dark red path and smiled in relief as the warm sun hit my face. I’m as free as a bird now but one thing’s still true, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.
Sonnet (from “Other People”)
By Alissa Eisenhart ‘22
Never thought that it would mean so, Knowing that no one can reach you but me, Other people do want to watch you grow. These days go by and by, please don’t flee.
Our heaven won’t keep us together
You met me in the right place at the wrong time. Do not fly away, light as a feather; I promise, oh promise, you are not a crime.
Can anyone reach you but me, my sky?
It takes all kinds, the worst kinds of shower
We say good love, and sadly then good bye. You bloom now, just like a pretty flower.
Was it ever, oh ever, quite enough?
Other people wanting to keep in touch?
Brianna Hetherington ‘24
By Juliana Venutolo
I am arising from the dirt and grime: A phoenix risen; yes, I’m still alive. Like a soldier come home for the first time. Bullets. A landmine. Yet, I still survive.
Afraid you’d lock me out, I kept the key: I have returned, ready to start anew. Are you as afraid to live without me As I’m afraid to live here without you?
For us, I’m still breathing. I shine the light, Pushing myself only to hear you say: “Together we can make it through this night And we will live to see another day.”
I’ve had my struggles, but now just for you My head’s above the rain and roses too.
Sonnet (from “Still Breathing” by Green Day)
‘22
Julia Gitto ‘24
Meaghan O’Malley ‘24
Gooey Sonnet (from “Gooey” by Glass Animals)
By Martha Ainsworth’22
Too fresh. Stained by youth and honeyed fingers.
Running away you still come back in tears.
I can't take this place and how it lingers, its air ripped smooth by all of our swears.
I'll keep your skinned knees, fool though you may be,
If you stop skinning mine. Living on fault lines I've taken your hand and given you seeds.
Kicking it to those peanut butter vibes.
I dreamt of willows of summers since past.
Ax and lumber and splinters in your hands.
No deal is made in smoke of a bomb blast.
Let me show you everything I know and
You were so young and danced dizzy in the rain, From the womb we whirled. Fugitives from pain.
I remember those days
Katherine Ziwot’25
I remember those days where I would watch the snow fall I could gather the sleds and build snowmen at least three feet tall
I remember those days where I would make a long list full of toys and new gadgets then I would wish, wish, wish, wish
I remember those days where I would bake my favorite treats with my sisters by my side and laughter would never cease
I remember those days I remember them well and what great stories those days make great stories I soon hope to tell
Mary Bowers ‘23
Avery Walsh ‘23
Meaghan O’Malley ‘24
Katie Jones ‘22
Remember to Breathe
Lilanna Wendorff ’24
The room was silent but also so loud My burdening thoughts spread through my body I just want to make everyone proud I breath out, but my vision goes spotty
Everything’s spinning, my thoughts piling up My stomach knot will multiply inside This feeling was so extreme and abrupt I’m trying to put these feelings aside
I exhale, applying what I was taught Silence is loud, I’m internally drowned I take five more breaths, shutting down my thoughts When I feel calm, I know my breath was found
I gather myself and I let out a sigh Until the next time, my eyes will stay dry
Olivia Aragon’22
Maya Rocco ‘23
