Unvarnished Words

YORK COLLEGE

UNVARNISHED WORDS

Unmasking Stories Behind the Pandemic 2020-2021 1

Editors’ Note

In the beginning of 2020, Students were learning, Faculty were teaching,

and The World spun at the same rate it always had. Then March arrived, laughing and screaming in the face of The World, applying its new rules and regulations.

Covid-19 devastated lives, killing millions and isolating many more. Masks were strapped on faces and the free air between everyone solidified into a six-foot wide barrier. Students and Teachers vanished, leaving only virtual remnants. The World, meanwhile, was not done being harassed. The significant death of a black man named George Floyd caused an uproar, sparking productive peaceful protests, but also violent riots. It became a modern civil war, not costing nearly as many lives, but striving for a similar change. This uproar of people fighting for validation ignited the nation. Masks remained attached, but the voices behind them were heard. Distances were kept, but The World realized that sound, love, and care can travel further than six feet. These writings and pictures are a collection of survivors, of people who were deprived, but survived and thrived, of people who finally got to voice their frustrations, and others who were able to express their appreciation. Through these stories, they were unmasked, and it is so beautiful.

Eli Embray, co-editor

Cover Photo Credit: Christian Bruggeman

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Editors: Eli Embray, Hayden Brown, Rachael Petts, Elias Dallmann Advisor: Dr. Aleshia O’Neal

Photo Credits: Steddon Sikes, Class of 1984

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Until the Day The world runs And we run too.

Nothing can stop our busy pursuit Of nonsense and noise that keeps us aloft.

Until the day that the world stopped.

Distractions became a luxury We just couldn’t afford.

We all realized we were Sicker than ever before.

Lies became too heavy to hold Within the silence of a broken home.

Gunshots rang from sea to sea Through the echoes of tragedy.

And so the world waits.

And we wait, too, With bated breath For something new.

Bekah Powell, Freshman: Psychology

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Sleep Personified Sleep, why do you evade me?

Like young love you slip from my grasp Like wind you dissolve in my hands Sleep, why do you escape me?

Don’t be afraid of me, sleep.

Don’t hide away in shadow Don’t shiver in the cold Don’t whimper in the dark Don’t run away from me, sleep.

Envelope me with your peace Entrap me with your silence Enclose me with your serenity.

Carry me away to calmer waters Create a space for me to dream Calm my nerves and fears Comfort me in nightmares.

You seem to be a myth I cannot tell if you are real For when I am awake, I sleep.

When I sleep, I am awake.

Michaela Hartman, YC Class of 2018

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Sometimes God Works Mysterious Ways Over the summer, I had the opportunity to work at a Christian Bible camp.

But before I got to the camp, I spent a good chunk of April wondering if I would even have a job there. The coronavirus was at an all-time high at that point and hosting a summer-long Bible camp didn’t seem like the best idea. Luckily, we were blessed to have summer camp, but it wasn’t the way that it should have been; it wasn’t the normal we expected. This was my first summer working for this camp, so I still don’t completely know what a “normal” summer looks like. But last summer, it was filled with masks, restricted activities, and carrying around a giant squirt bottle full of sanitizer (yes, it is still attached to my backpack).

One of the hardest parts about the summer was that once we got there on May 28th, we weren’t allowed to leave until the end of the summer, which was July 27th. My initial plan was to work at the camp during the week and then spend the weekend with my boyfriend and his family in Omaha. That didn’t happen, and I remember feeling trapped. Two whole months without the outside world? I wondered what life was going to look like when I did get back out into civilization. Even though I was very skeptical about being confined to the campgrounds, I’m grateful that I wasn’t able to leave the camp. Because we were stuck together for two months, the other staff members and I were almost forced to become friends and hang out with each other. This helped me to step out of my comfort zone and interact with people I had never met before. I knew before last summer that I wasn’t going to know a single person at this camp, but once I was there, it dawned on me that I needed to make friends, and this was the perfect opportunity for me to do so.

We weren’t allowed to run camps during June because of COVID-19 guidelines, so that meant that we spent our time hanging out with each other and bonding over all the work projects that we needed to do before the campers arrived. Some of the tasks that we were assigned weren’t easy, like putting in a new volleyball net and cementing it into the sand, moving the thick, long water slide from one side of the camp to the other, and even filling sandbags and moving them to make the base for the slide. Not having camp during June was good for the camp as a whole, though, because we received extra time for training, and we were very prepared and ready for the kids to come in July.

Once the campers got here, we went into strict COVID-19 mode. One of our directors was battling a pre-existing condition already, so we went to great lengths to make sure that we weren’t putting him at risk. We split up where people ate for meals, created a strict schedule so people weren’t overlapping and spreading

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anything amongst themselves, and even had chapel outside in the bowl-shaped valley.

We always made sure to have our kids bring towels or blankets to sit on during chapel to be comfortable. There were also many wearing gloves when moving in the kids’ stuff, and barriers were put into place between the bunk beds, just in case. There was strict rule to not touch other people, but once Thursday night hit, that rule went out the window (if you aren’t familiar with the camp setup, Thursday night is always the super emotional night when the kids spill their hearts out to Jesus, and most of them need a good hug and some prayer).

The month of July was a smashing success, with hundreds of kids coming to camp and hearing about Jesus, and the best part was that we never had a single case of COVID-19! God was watching over our camp, making sure that we were all healthy and safe to expand His kingdom. Overall, this past summer was one of the best summers I’ve ever had. Sure, it was challenging and sometimes extremely frustrating, but God had our camp in His hands, guiding us all along the way. I was able to make lifelong relationships that might not have been formed if we hadn’t taken the time to nurture them together, both with campers and other staff. As of three months ago, I was already hired to spend my summer at this bible camp again, and I am beyond excited! I am ready to see how God works through us again this summer, despite COVID-19, to reach those who need Him, and to minister to those who need to hear Him speak to them again.

Rachael Petts, Sophomore: Secondary Education, English

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The Alone She’s gone.

Her absence invades my reality like an unwelcome guest.

I cannot seem to escape the thick ominous cloud.

Its presence closes in like an attacking shadow I can’t seem to outrun.

The crushing weight surrounds me.

I feel like a grape in a wine press.

Tighter and tighter, it squeezes my spirit and crushes my heart.

It’s everywhere.

Debilitating my foggy mind and my aching soul.

It clings like wet clothes after a torrential rain, and assaults my tear ducts.

It’s everywhere.

It sits on my heart, rudely, painfully, as it sips my inner self like lemonade on a hot, steamy day.

“Go away!” I shout. I sense it laughing at my anger and excruciating pain.

It crawls in bed with me and gleefully siphons my sleep, seemingly drawing energy from my weary woundedness.

It insists on staying.

My broken-hearted pleas for its departure fall helplessly on its uncaring ears.

I demand to know its name.

A sadistic, sinister grin forms on its wretched face and it speaks with bone-chilling clarity “Just call me ‘The Alone.’”

Clark Roush, PhD Professor of Music Endowed Chair for the Performing Arts

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Lost What in the world do I do without you?

You were my breath.

You were what sustained me.

You were what gave me life.

You were what gave me meaning and purpose.

What do I do now?

My aching heart cannot process the waves of reality crashing into the shore of my life.

I am just so lost. I can’t find “true north.”

My compass is shattered.

I don’t know where I am.

I don’t know who I am.

I don’t know why I am.

I don’t know how to get to a different place.

There are so many things I just do not know.

The heaviness of your absence sits like a boulder on my heart, and may be more than I can bear.

Dear God, what if indeed it is? Then what?

Your smile, your bright eyes, your gentle touch, the smell of your neck when we hugged, the silkiness of your hair, the smooth ivory of your skin, the rolling thunder of your hearty laugh, the way you ran your velvet fingers across my temples and through my hair, the way you always convinced me I could do anything, the loving way you soothed and calmed my insecurities, the unwavering belief you had in me.

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All gone! I will not have any of those again.

How can anyone expect me to survive?

How does one live without their breath?

The pain I feel emanates from the deepest places in my shattered heart, my empty soul, and my crushed spirit.

I stagger around like a zombie in search of purpose.

I try to find my way, even just a little bit, but alas, I am lost. For now, that’s all I know.

I am lost.

Clark Roush, PhD Professor of Music Endowed Chair for the Performing Arts

In memory of our beloved Sue Roush July 7, 1960- Jan 27, 2020

Photo Credit: Bobby DeHart, Class of 1995

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Fire

Courage is birthed within—it breathes, and bleeds, and burns to build.

The burns sear from the inside out, a trail of ash to follow.

Then…the phoenix flies.

Sarah Cullen: NCCW* YC 2nd Cohort, Fall 2020 Photo Credit: Elias Dallmann, Class of 2023

*York College Second Chance Education Program began in August 2016 at the Nebraska Correctional Center for Women (NCCW). The first cohort of 12 women graduated three and a half years later in August of 2019. The second cohort began their studies later that month and are continuing, despite the pandemic challenges.

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Sestina to Niccole

Dedicated to Niccole Wetherell, July 21, 1980 - Feb. 26, 2021 NCCW, YC 1st Cohort Within her lies strength that she does not recognize. Her family sees it and they marvel, gaining hope from her fire. Her tender love elevates the pain off their shoulders. She brings them light.

Walking through life, she breathes light and life to those around her. Freely she lends her strength to the women around her as they stagger through their time until their pain seems lighter and they can manage on their own. Family forms from friendship as moments: tender and tough are played out, her by your side. Her hope ignites our hope.

The diagnosis is revealed and hope flickers, threatening to burn out. Still her light never dims. We utter tender words of support, and borrow her our strength this time. As her family, we hate to see her pain.

As treatments begin, her pain stirs our own. We pray and hope we’re loving her well and doing enough. Family are the friends who light the path out of darkness. Strength is in our rallying together, though the wounds are still tender.

Her hair falls away, exposing the tender skin of her scalp, an outward expression of her endurance of pain.

This pain fights to steal her strength,

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yet, within her dances flames of hope and faith. As we battle on our knees, pleading to Jesus for her, we use light -hearted banter to keep her spirits up. We wish she could hug and be held by her family.

In Christ we are family, daughters of the Most High. All whispering tender and relentless implores to the Light of the World to take from her body the poison and pain.

Through it all, she refuses to give up hope!

Even this cancer cannot steal her beauty, tenacity, and strength.

She bleeds strength and her light rages-- baring the blaze in her heart. Tender and tough, her family and loved ones are in awe. Pain and hope twist and melt together, still she illuminates hope.

Sarah Cullen, NCCW, YC 2nd Cohort, Fall 2020

Photo Credit: Steddon Sikes, Class of 1984

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The Nature We Outgrow The roots we have are from the tree that connects us.

But those roots are not what make us.

We are our own leaves.

As much as we want to say we are the tree and roots, it’s not always what’s best for us.

Our own roots can be destroying to us-as much as we don’t want to believe that.

But once we let the wind take us, we can create our own tree.

In the beginning, it’s hard to start.

But once we get through the droughts, We become our own-A bright and beautiful tree.

Allison Doppenberg, Freshman: Special Education

Life Unimagined I used to wish that I could hide behind a mask because I was afraid of what people might see.

Afraid to speak with confidence, Even when I spoke to my family.

It’s 2020, and here I sit, Wearing this mask performing my everyday tasks.

Oh how I wish that I could get rid of this mask!

I want the whole world to see That the mask I once wished I had Is not a part of me Or my identity.

LaToya Ross, NCCW, YC 1st Cohort

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Family Tree

Eli Embray, Sophmore: English

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In my composition classes this year, I completed a group activity during the poetry unit, tasking my students to create a sestina as a class based on six words they selected together. Each group of two, three, or sometimes four students followed the sestina pattern, creating their individual stanzas. What resulted were beautiful sestinas that flowed together as one voice, when in reality it was 25 students (or 12 in the case of the women at NCCW) adding to the lyric verse. I believe this represents what we collectively have learned in this season of a pandemic: we work beautifully together and in isolation, rising above the challenges we face. Even when it’s a sestina.

Dr. Aleshia O’Neal, Class of 1985

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Sestina to Family My creator is my mother, She is my home.

In my home, I find love The love lasts forever Forever together— We are bonded by that trust.

Our family has trust.

It roots from the touch of our loving mother.

We are all in this together, No matter where we are, we are at home A tree that shelters forever Branching from our love.

What is life without love?

Along with love comes trust, And love with trust stays forever: There is no better trust and love than a mother.

Our mother made a house a home And home unites us together.

We spent most days together Surrounded by each other’s love Safe and warm in our home Building a bond based on trust.

We often turned to our mother Because we knew her love was forever.

They say family is forever.

But we all belong together Under the arms of our mother,

*Photo Credit: Elias Dallmann, Secondary Education, English

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Family that is built on love And maintained through trust-Anywhere we go together is home.

I want to go home.

You’ll miss it forever.

To all the ones I trust, Always sticking together, Neverending love For my beautiful mother.

My mother was home so we were all together With unconditional trust, This home is where our love lives forever.

ENG 123-01, Spring 2021

Sestina To Hope In life, you need hope.

You can’t give up on your dreams-You must use them to fall in love, Then that love will turn into passion.

Once it gets tough, you need perseverance But in the end, you must have faith.

An intelligent girl away from her faith.

Memories hold the hope, hardships severing the perseverance that is left. “Don’t give up on your dreams,” she says, “continue with passion and soon you’ll be surrounded with love.”

In a world divided by opinion and deception, we cannot lose love.

We need to change; some of us have lost all faith.

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We will not give up--this life is our passion.

Despite the distance, we still have hope One day we will fulfill all of our dreams.

We cannot give up, press on! In joy, in perseverance!

Left with a tiny amount of perseverance, All she wanted was love.

It was reality, not a dream.

The key to her love was faith, But she had no hope.

Yet all she needed was someone to show her passion.

In a world full of chaos, I am led by my passion When my passion fades, I am led by my perseverance.

A single thought pushes me through, the thought of hope The hope that I will find strength in love A love that grows my faith But only in my dreams.

We fill our days with cheer and dreams Finding our lives through love and passion We believe in, but keep our faith.

Fire and ice: my faith is strong through perseverance My power is endless, a deep abiding love.

What carries us is hope.

We need to garner hope and go through all of life with perseverance.

Lost and alone, without passion, but what we need is faith: It is love that drives us to pursue our wildest dreams.

ENG 123-02, Spring 2021

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Sestina to Life Behind Walls The loss of connection forms reason for fear.

We design our personal masks to hide us within the isolating distance.

Yet, we illuminate our identity and bring forth our true strength.

(Jessie Reid and Brittney Pryce) The days drain by and my strength seems fleeting. Struggling to find connection with the faces around me that mirror my identity.

The unknown comes over me in a flood of fear.

We push through to overcome the distance revealing our true selves, glaring around the mask.

(Sarah Cullen and Kim Faust) Features closed off and hidden by the mask, while families and communities reveal their foundation of strength.

Longing embedded in my heart, leaving a distaste for distance.

Searching, needing a deeper connection as “uncertain” and “unprecedented” times leaves nothing but fear, rejuvenating the mental state of the population for a renewed identity.

(ChelSey Cook and Shavontae Green) The pandemic called COVID-19 has snatched our identity.

Each face a mask that hides the fear but creates the strength that builds the connection that overcomes the distance.

(Jo Helen Williams and Brittany Hatch)

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We have been given a choice, but forced to a distance, Our world has learned a new identity.

Always yearning and longing for a connection Though everywhere we turn, all we keep hearing is: mask.

We know that at the end of the day, together we find strength pushing through and not falling victim to fear.

(Calinda Vantine and Lora McKinney) Tired of living in fear.

No touch, no love, just six-foot distance.

Breaking the bond of my inner strength trapping my beautiful identity.

Smothered behind a mask trying to embrace a new connection.

(Jocelyn Nordin and Brittany Two-Two) Our identity is not masked.

Our connection removes fear.

From a distance, we show our strength.

(Dr. Aleshia O’Neal: dedicated to these strong women, with love.)

Nebraska Correctional Center for Women: 2nd Cohort, Fall 2021

Photo Credit: Dr. Aleshia O’Neal, Class 1985

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Sestina To Fall The crooked woman took a fall going down in memories.

Devoured by the hungry children, her spirit bled out in colors from the glow of the firelight.

The children danced in the shadows. (Jessica Reid and Brittney Pryce) Through the light, I see the shadows.

Catching myself before I fall, the warmth chills me from the firelight, my mind encased within the memories gone by. Inside my dark, the colors blind me, made calm by the light of my children. (Sarah Cullen and Kim Faust) Families gather: mother, father, children together. Thoughts pass like shadows fleeting. Amazing leaves, all shapes and colors, all breathing stops as they watch them fall, caught up in the memories of dancing by firelight. (Calinda Vantine and Lora McKinney) The flickers of the firelight dance in the minds of the children.

The long nights leave nostalgic memories, against the fire walls they all move in the shadows.

Cold leaves, cool breeze, and the embers’ glow allow my mind to fall: stained glass reflecting all my true colors. (ChelSey Cook and Shavontae Green) As I look at the colors, I see an explosion of firelight and watch embers fall.

I can see children playing in the shadows, laughing and making memories. (Jo Helen Williams and Brittany Hatch)

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Always trapped inside the blinding memories, Painted with neon colors.

The traces of destruction in the shadows, Beaming hope twisting in the firelight.

Crawling out of the darkness for my children We pray to catch them before they fall. (Jocelyn Nordin and Brittany Two-Two) Feeling the fall in fading memories My children remain bright colors In the shadows of my firelight. (Dr. Aleshia O’Neal)

NWCC ,YC 2nd Cohort, Fall 2020 Photo Credit: Elias Dallmann, Secondary Education, English

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Isolation Like a bird in a cage comes to a day in age, a deadly pandemic that confines me to the very walls of this institution. I’m left with thoughts that may be just an illusion. Six days passed in the blink of an eye. It’s as if the world is still going on with no regards to how you’ve been. As I sit on this bronze colored iron bench, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed with the numerous sounds that spark my hibernated senses back to life.

I will never take for granted the world that is around me as it fills up my soul with its gentle sunlight and whispering breeze.

Kylie Marlin, Junior: Biology

Photo Credit: Elias Dallmann, Secondary Education, English

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Who Is God? God is love Love is patience Love is kindness Love is slowness to anger Love is generosity (unenvious) Love is humbleness (unboastful) Love is politeness (unarrogant) Love is respectfulness (unrude) Love is easygoing (uninsisting-on-its-own-way) Love is amiable (unirritable) Love is unresentful Love rejoices with good works Rejoices with truth Love bears other’s burdens, Love believes others

God is not

Love hopes for good things

Asking invasive questions

Endures bad things

Being unempathetic

Love is God

Speaking before listening

“Be like God”

Speaking while listening

-Jesus

Speaking in spite of listening feeling self-righteous Feeling vindicated Feeling forgiven without repentance Forcing someone else to “repent” Hateful God is not these things Yet we continue to perpetuate such works.

Why?

Hayden Brown, Junior: Secondary Education English

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Why Bother?

Dark, heavy, no sunlight in sight They say, “It is spring!”

I do not feel the warmth Winter is over but I am cold to the core No hope, no end in sight

I am done! I am giving in!

I am so tired of fighting!

Why Bother?

There is no hope left!

Amazing grades and wonderful friends I have a place to belong,

It does not matter, nothing matters!

The dark can have me!

Why Bother?!

But numbness fills my soul Nothing makes a difference

Then I hear a soft whisper

If I was gone, no one would care

The sound is warm and safe

Why Bother?

I want to listen and find peace,

Self-afflicted opinions weigh down my feet “I am not good enough”

But do I dare to hope…?

No, it will leave. Nothing stays Why Bother?

“I will never move forward” “Nothing can save me” My thoughts are a cage holding me captive Why Bother?

The whisper stays and says, “I have good plans for You, You are So important to me I will never leave You I came to save You because I love you I bother!”

Julie Tremaine, Sophomore: Business Communication

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COVID Poem Everything in life was jubilant and simple, Then the next moment made me numb.

An extrovert like myself couldn’t function alone, Spending weeks refusing to confront my fear of isolation.

It was time to do what I do best: Venture into the unknown and Learn new things about myself, one day at a time.

Isolation was a time of peace and meditation, A time to grow with my Lord and Savior.

Taking life for granted was no longer an option.

It was a choice, day in and day out.

Gratitude was changed from a microscopic level to a macroscopic level.

Life, earth, family, breathing, along with Learning, now became a passion.

I was growing in any aspect of life possible.

Before, I was a boy who couldn’t be alone, Someone who occasionally would complain, and An individual who despised reading.

This human being now has an appreciation for life and The little things, Embracing an optimistic mindset for himself And seeing those who surround him.

Sebastian Rolon Barreto, Junior: Biology

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Her Life In Color White

Blue

Lily, pure, clean, snow, virginal,

Aqua, azure, navy, cyan, sky,

The absence of stain,

Spacious sustaining ability,

Before the Taker came.

Unaware and blind to the propensity.

Green

Red

Grass, avocado, pea, lime, olive,

Vermillion, cerise, cardinal, cherry, ruby,

Lush verdant naïve growth,

The jewel mined too soon,

A soul with abundant hope.

Potential immediately swooned.

Black

Lung, cloud, hole, heart,--girl, Nothing good ever comes from black.

Jo Helen Williams, YC NCCW, 2nd Cohort

White Privilege My eyes are blue My hair’s perfect, too.

Blonde and beautiful Trustworthy and sociable To any judge or cop Who refuses to drop The conclusion they desire, Of course I’m someone they admire: I’m on one side of the ridge Caused by white privilege.

Leah Lane, Freshman: Psychology

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What Is What is a lie but a pin of deceit Meant to prick the trust bubble Just to see if it bleeds What is pretty but surface dirt Meant to demean the mediocre Just to see if looks kill What is ugly but a label Meant to divide society Just to see if words cut What is a poem but personal expression Meant to bring joy or bring tears Just to see if the heart laughs and cries Michaela Hartman - Class of 2018

DEZ PHOTO BLM

Photo Credit: Steddon Sikes, Class of 1984

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Where Will I Eat? The table is full of food sustenance, delectable, delicious, Food for my soul There are so many chairs, Each with a name On one I see my father’s On another I see my sister’s Still another my mother’s, My brother’s, My elementary school bully’s, My preacher’s, my teacher’s My principal’s My fake-girlfriend’s My best friend’s, I look And look and look and look and look But my name is nowhere near the table.

My name is on the dog dish Outside the back door Next to the compost bin filled with wormshit My “table” is full of food too though Rotten, unsatisfying, diseased.

Food for my soul.

Hayden Brown, Junior: English Education

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2020 Vision My mouth is dry and chokes on the words yet my eyes cannot remain dry.

My fingers stall on the keys. How can I sum up a summer, when it contained a million years? How to describe the ways our lives are suddenly altered?

Early in the spring we rushed to our homes, our bubbles, our units, and stayed in isolation. For how long? When would this end? No one could tell. Listen to the radio, read the news, hope. . . discouragement everywhere.

Where is optimism? Has it been vanquished? I certainly do not feel it, and though I search and search, I cannot find it anywhere.

A beautiful day, and I enjoy a walk in the park. Earbuds in, I almost forget what’s happening all around me. Until a lone runner rushes past me, wearing her mask as tight as her ponytail, and I shudder again.

There’s no escaping it.

We’re re-writing the rules of reality.

Dining rooms are locked. Hours are cut short. Employees covered headto-toe in plastic. Don’t forget to cover your mouth with a mask before you eat. New hours are there to protect you. Don’t leave your fridge and belly empty too late, or you may not eat until the next day.

Hands are cautious. Eyes are scared.

Sit outside, and avoid any contact with others. Bring your own personal bubble and extend it. . . further. . . further. . . further. . . there, that’s it.

Another day, another new symptom of the change.

Important documents are passed under the door. Grab it with a glove. The door handles are locked, the hallways of government buildings dark. The quiet is ominous. Use the hand sanitizer, wear the masks, don’t come in contact. Pass the IDs under the door. Fill out the information. Pass the documents back. Don’t let the mask slip! There’s a door in-between. Can’t hear through the glass. Here we are, yelling to one another through masks, through glass, through a wood door, through time.

Is this a farce?

We’re re-writing the rules. But no, this isn’t reality. It can’t be. This isn’t the “new normal.” None of this is normal. Will it get to be? Who’s to say. But it’s not “normal” to live like this.

We’re living with 2020 vision.

Here today, gone tomorrow. We may be living with it for longer, or shorter, who’s to tell? But some day our reality will be re-written again.

Amalia Magner, Senior English Major

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A Day to Remember

August 15, 2020, is the date of my annual family reunion—a big part of my

life. It did not happen this year due to Covid-19. Our reunion is a time when all six generations of my dad’s side of the family get together in remembrance of my Great Grandmother, Johnnie Faye. Most of my family had the pleasure of getting to know her, and many grew up with her around. When I was around the age of three, she began her heavenly life. Since I was really young when she passed away, I don’t have any reminiscences of her. Her being the core and center around the family reunion really showed me how dear she was to everyone. I’ve been told plenty of stories on how she was a courageous, feisty woman who everyone loved.

Similar to Rosa Parks because she was a single mother of eleven kids, my

grandmother worked extremely hard to make sure that her children lived the best life that she could provide on a single-parent income. She was alive during the Civil Rights Movement—fighting against the discrimination, disenfranchisement, and segregation towards African Americans in the United States. Little did she know: while she was fighting for the freedom of herself and the people around her, she’d be fighting for the freedom I have today. She was the kind of woman teachers loved to call when one of her relatives wasn’t behaving in the classroom because she wouldn’t have to show up to get them to settle down. She would get them and their act together with her firm voice and stern demeanor without having to show up to the school.

With her being the core of our family and the main focus of the family reunion, an outline of her face and/or her name is on every single shirt that we have made for that year. I brought them all to college with me because they remind me of all the fun times I spend with my family. My favorite shirt that we made has a huge tree, representing a family tree, and how we are all kin to one another. All of us wearing the same shirts was a form of unity and uniformity, with all of us matching one another representing my great grandmother and the fact we are all family.

This year I didn’t get a T-shirt nor attend the reunion. This year I didn’t

get to watch my uncle try and take on everyone in a dance battle then regretting it because he says he’s too old to be trying to dance still and that his dancing days are over. This year I didn’t get to see my aunts bold red lipstick that she wears every single

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year. This year I didn’t get to smell my aunt’s strong perfume that she seems to never run out of. I didn’t get to hear my grandmother’s laugh that would remind you of a witch’s laugh that you would hear in movies. Nor did I get to taste the filling of my grandmother’s sweet potato pie, or give her the seal of approval by smiling and rubbing my belly before I even got the chance to put the spoon in my mouth and taste the filling. I didn’t have to push off my cousins and aunts from pinching my cheek while they reminded me of how much I have grown and how much they are proud of the young man I have become. This year I didn’t get the chance to thank my uncle for his service, who is now a retired veteran stuck in a wheelchair due to an accident he had from when he fought for our country. This year I didn’t get to feel the hugging from my family feeling their arms around me; seeing my grandmother smiling, and most importantly I didn’t get to see the lighting of candles for my great-grandmother.

Not being able to see my family and feel the unity this year has made me feel a little lost. Though this event wasn’t exactly what I wanted, it helped me realize even more how precious time with my family is. Family is something that many people take for granted and when you aren’t able to see them it can be difficult. In the end, family means so much to me; I hope other people will not take their families for granted.

Bruce Johnson III, Sophomore: Music Education

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CoronaVirus

Viruses have been around longer than we care to think about. When the first signs and symptoms show up of a new virus, the science and healthcare communities change from daily routines to rushing for answers. Scientists know that a virus must run its course and that the unknown will create uncertainty. The immediate, present, and future effects of the CoronaVirus, a.k.a. Covid-19, have been minute to drastic worldwide.

The immediate effects from Covid-19 were most seen in traveling on planes and ships. Even with new restrictions like face masks, fourteen-day quarantines, and country-wide lockdowns, the virus has spread at a rapid rate. While the little community where I live had less of an immediate impact, we had soon started to see the changes caused by this new virus.

This new and rapidly spreading virus came too close for comfort; we were instructed on techniques, guidelines, and new rules that must be followed statewide.

These new social distancing rules trickled down the totem pole and ended up in the Nebraska Correctional Center for Women. From having to be issued face masks, made on grounds, to social distancing of six feet apart, I was now beginning to feel the effects of the virus. No longer able to be in big groups, the first realization of it came to me at the breakfast table. This new rule of sitting two at a table was a big adjustment to all of us.

In addition to having to sit two at a table and across from one another, my job was another place to be hit hard in my present life. We had to go from a full classroom to ten only including the aides and the teachers. It was a big adjustment, to say the least. My schedule that I had grown so accustomed to went out the window; the shock affected the individual teachings as well. We had to stay six feet apart, quiet in the classroom for others, and still be able to explain things loud enough for our one-on-one students to hear. The masks were a big area of complaint, immediately and currently.

Although many inmates are complaining of masks, others have had to deal with the loss of visits. I, too, am one of these inmates. I went from seeing my children every other weekend to not having seen them in almost seven months. My boys are growing up and I am missing out on seeing it physically which has been the hardest part of Covid-19 for me. In addition to not seeing my children, I have not been able to have contact with their ailing grandfather, either.

In the short time that visits were allowed, I could not have a visit due to the health issues of my family members. My boys’ grandfather and I are very close; since I was first locked up, he has been the emotional support for my children and me.

Since he has been diagnosed with ALS, he had been coming up to see me as much as possible with my boys. The social distancing rules that have been put in place would

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not allow him to come visit due to his health issues. This has been another huge struggle because not only was he unable to come and visit during the short time they were allowed, he is not able to verbally talk anymore. The phone calls that were once so important are unable to continue.

However, when I have called to talk to my children recently, they can relay messages for us. This way I can at least know how he is doing and what they have been up to. When my children and their grandfather went to the Reptile Garden, the Zoo, and Mount Rushmore, I heard about it and was sent pictures. With the Covid-19 and no visits, I am unable to see the excitement in their faces. Although I can hear the excitement in their voices, it is not the same thing as seeing them to tell their stories.

Consequently, not being able to see the happiness of my children from their adventures over the summer has brought on new and harder emotional issues to deal with. Since the isolation began I knew there would be hard things to deal with: depression, anxiety, stress, panic attacks, and anger outbursts. Knowing that these issues could arise, I started seeing a therapist and added a new medication along with the exercise. The combination of the three had been helping until recently I learned of my children’s grandfather’s condition. When this news was told to me I got extremely depressed because, for the first time since I have been locked up, I realized I would never see one of my closest friends again.

In addition to the depression that I had now found myself in, I felt as though I was drifting away from my friends. The Coronavirus had completely swallowed up my happiness and any thought of positivity. I was soon going into a deep downward spiral. The thought of being alone completely, even though I was surrounded by three hundred women was mind-numbing. But while I thought I was completely alone, my friend and classmate pulled me back from depression.

With her help and positive influence, I started to become myself again. She made me realize that even though we are away from our families in such a hard time we have the phone calls that have been extended to more time per day to talk to family and friends. Not only do I have more phone time but there is also more quiet time to process through a lot of old emotions that were stored away.

While Covid-19 may have started as a super-fast spreading and high death rate virus, it has started to bring people back together. Maybe not physically, but emotionally and intellectually people are getting to know their families deeper than a casual conversation at the dinner table. While it is sad that a pandemic had to happen for parents to get to know their children better, or grown children to call their parents, it is a blessing in disguise. Our future with Covid-19 may not look bright and positive to most, but as the days go on we will see a vaccine and an antibody. Through the struggles of past, present, and future viruses, diseases, and pandemics, whether caused by nature or humans, we as a community come together to help those who need it.

Brittney Pryce, YC NCCW, 2nd Cohort

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Losing Fear, Finding Love In a time of unprecedented madness, I have felt only two things: fear and love. What you might be wondering is, do these two feelings relate? The answer would be, of course. The thing, however, is that it was not COVID that I was ever really afraid of. What I was afraid of actually wasn’t about COVID at all. I was afraid of love. I was afraid that the love would do me in. I was scared that it would take me into the darkest places of my soul that I’d once promised myself never to dare visit again. I was afraid that a love so powerful and so strange would be too much for me to handle.

It’s hard to imagine that this love was the ordinary kind at all. This was a love that proved to be relentless and strong. A love that only GOD himself is capable of creating, but it’s all too easy to be afraid of powerful things. I mean after all we are supposed to be GOD loving and FEARING Christians. Through everything, the fear, the pain, and the hope of it all turning out okay, I think instead it was the love that saved me.

I’ve been through a lot, seen a lot of things, and have made my fair share of mistakes.

But what I didn’t realize: I had experienced true, unwavering love. I mean sure my parents were always there loving me, pushing me, and waiting for me to make them proud but what I hadn’t recognized was the magnitude of the love they had for me.

They had a love for me that could only come from God, and that love is within us all.

Most of us (or at least me) never even realized that we were deserving of it.

I found love in truly one of the most hopeless times. I found someone who was accepting, loving, forgiving, and understanding. I found a person who I think is in God’s plan for me for the long-haul. COVID-19 has changed a lot of things. In fact, some things in my life wouldn’t have ever happened if it weren’t for this pandemic.

For some reason I have always thought, at least for me, that it takes extreme brokenness in order to recreate. It took a lot of bad things and a lot of unhealthy habits to get me to where I am with my faith. If the things in my life hadn’t all occurred the way that they did, I don’t know if I’d be the God-fearing/loving Christian that I am today.

I think for me it took a level of brokenness, that only God or Satan can understand, in order for me to find my way back to HIM. For some people, the COVID pandemic did break them. The love that so many people had built relationships and families upon had been shattered. Meanwhile, when hundreds of thousands of people were dying, riots were everywhere, and hate seemed to be more abundant than ever, I was able to find love. I found someone who allows me to see past those things, and not in a negligent way, but in a way that allows me to see that there is something better and there can and will be life after COVID. At least, I want to believe that there has to be.

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Now, while I don’t disagree with someone that thinks that everything happens for a reason, I do think that God allows us freewill to make our own choices during our life journey. I think that He ultimately has a plan for us. I believe that in the end something good has to come from all this bad. For there is always light after the darkness.

Life after COVID may seem impossible now, but I don’t believe that it is. Maybe I’m naïve for thinking that finding someone who loves me and who I love so much can get me through all of this, but it gives me hope that this kind of love can get other people through it too. After all, if I’m wrong then maybe I am OK with that.

The sad thing is, I don’t know if everybody is able to find or accept it, which is where I’m at with COVID. I’m in a place where I have so much love in my heart that I want to give and receive, even during a world-wide pandemic. Right now I’m not even sure if there are that many people able to give and receive love. COVID-19 has rocked people’s worlds with more than just death, sickness, and devastation. In a lot of ways some people, like myself, think there has also been the death of love and human compassion in the hearts of so many people on the Earth.

I look around through my 20-year-old eyes with my 20-year-old brain and experience things with my 20-year-old body, but I see centuries of hatred and loss and sadness just waiting to overtake what little humanity and love that we have left, and I don’t want to let that happen. I don’t want to ever lose the love that I found and discovered not only within myself but also in the few people around me that see and understand what I see and feel what I feel.

It’s hard living today, not in an “I-don’t-want-to-be-alive-anymore” type of way, but more that life is just hard. I want an end to this madness. I don’t know when COVID-19 pandemic will be over, but I really hope that it’s sooner rather than later.

God’s love that he has for every single one of us is greater than anything else. His love is something that I wish every person in the world could experience. God’s love helped me to not only find myself but to also find love and happiness with someone else. Love conquers all, and maybe one day God’s love won’t seem so small.

Kitra Cody, Junior: Business Administration and Accounting

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The pandemic Cruising through the streets with friends Chillin’ at the park Feeling the fresh air flowing through my body Late night walks Family gatherings Face to face interactions Visible smiles Joyful hearts QUARANTINE Second guessing What’s right and what’s not Work one day The next day you stop loss of jobs Out Of Business Limited supplies Hello through the phone No in-person goodbyes Limited visitation Mask mandates around the world Some agree, But most do not Concerts and other major events, cancelled Virtual classes from home Attempting to keep busy to not lose our minds All we have now is possibly too much Time Introverts miss being with extroverts Conspiracy theories Lost in thought Solitary birthdays Few friends Loss of faith and hope Loss of identity Increased number of Suicides Depression Anxiety

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Loneliness Communication coming to an end Riots Love, Something most of us are lacking And unfortunately there’s too much Human-trafficking More and more Chaos Inevitable deaths Nothing to hold on to Aiming to find a cure Vaccines Most agree, Few do not New “normal” Living day by day Night by night We cannot lose this fight A fight that’s often in our own minds Wondering if we should give up Or try to see even the slightest chance of light Trying to make the most of our time with those we love Because our time alive is limited We don’t know exactly when death will arrive And we either took this experience as a moment of reflection Or with a negative reaction I realized, Just like my shoes, The earth also had traction But now that my vision is more and more clear It’s time to stop talking and take action What have we been doing with our lives all this time?

Where do you want to be?

Who do you want to be?

And who is going to stop you?

It’s up to you to get you where you need to be When there’s no time, there is time.

The time is, Now. April Fernandez, Sophomore: Music

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Strength Inside this Cage

Loneliness prevails behind these closed doors of solitary. There is no encounter with our loved ones. Will we sit behind these cold concrete walls with isolated minds and hearts wondering? Is there ever going to be a time when I can wrap my arms around those beautiful babies of mine again? BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP… stupid alarm! Time flies by so quick, ugh I do not want to drag myself out of this bed another day. We are to sit here and wonder how the COVID19 will affect our lives now and possibly forever.

My feet hit the cold tiled floor; I drag my heavy legs to the sink and start my day. I hate living in this stupid cage, a human kennel. Here I go again, letting my brain run about prison life. Being depressed and trying to live in prison is torture. It is time to drag myself to eat the morning oatmeal and toast, which we have almost every day of the week. I begin walking across the whole yard, about a half of a football field long, dragging my lazy bones through another day. On my walk to dining, I realize my eyes are closed. I take in the noises around me and take deep breaths in and out slowly.

My breathing becomes calm; I can feel the tension release from my head to my toes. This stupid mask is very irritating. I just want to rip it off and be like everyone else. But I know that it is for our safety in a place where social distancing is almost impossible, so I just continue to breathe and listen. I can hear traffic way off in the distance like leaves flying fast against pavement, birds chirping on the telephone wires, and other women on the yard walking. I take this moment in for a second and remind myself this is not forever: stay strong, you’ve got this!

I stop by the little ten by twelve inch window they push our surprise meals out of. Sometimes, we get lucky and they change what is on the menu, but not today.

It’s the same oatmeal and toast. I grab my tray with the sticky peanut butter at the bottom of the tray getting stuck to my fingers. “YUCK! Thanks guys, I appreciate it!”

I tell the kitchen workers. Walking away, I ask the dining workers to help me clean it up, which I am glad they do. “Wow! I am not going to eat today,” I think, “I will just go to work; this is too much for me.” Making the effort to get to work every day is a challenge for me, but I do it for the distraction.

Still, I go walking around along the fence line to get to work down in the big tin building called CSI, short for Corn Huskers State Industry. Yep, I said it: I am a sewer for the state. I make clothes for prisoners Monday through Thursday, 7AM5PM since COVID started. It was until Fridays but staff of Nebraska Correctional Facility for Women wanted to minimize contact as much as possible, so they short us a day of pay now. I am totally fine with it as long as I can get back to my phone, my main lifeline to my babies. I walk into work and I clock in on the time clock, walk through the faulty metal detector, get pat searched by my boss, and receive my tool pouch that I use on a daily basis on my job.

“Two Two,” My boss Ms. Prince says as I walk to my desk, “you’re lead on the floor today.” I nod my head “okay” and start making my way to the lead table. I

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enjoy being the lead on the floor because I stay so busy it takes my mind away from the miserableness of my life. Sometimes, when I just sit and sew, I get lost in thought and think about all the would’ve, could’ve beens. Now that I am lead this week, I can stay busy with paperwork, helping all the sewers, and move around the shop. I think my days have become the point of covering up my depression. I feed my feelings with cover ups, anything to move my thoughts anywhere but to my family. Tears gush like waterfalls every time a thought leads me to my children. It holds me like a lost soul in the depths of hell.

The emotions run deep as I move through day by day. I just cannot focus on work, breakfast, or the simple fact of crawling out of bed. I want to hold my babies, kiss them, because I know for a fact, I am not the only one affected by the plague of COVID- 19. It has completely changed my course of the air I breathe and the life I live. There has to be something better than being smothered by a mask, and deprived of human contact from my loved ones. I cannot focus; my daily routines that were a breeze for me are now obstacles. My thoughts always race back to the fright and terror of the “if’s” and “when’s” ; If or when I can ever see my children again.

The Coronavirus pandemic has affected my babies greatly with depression.

They keep telling me they want me to see them and play with them. Hearing my voice is not good enough for them anymore. When my kids were allowed to visit every weekend they were okay. It is going on seven months without seeing them. The only way to see them now is through a video, or pictures sent to me. That is why phone calls are the most important thing to me right now.

As soon as my boss calls for tools after a long day of work, I get to the phone as quick as I can. Both my babies answer the phone on speaker. I can hear the happiness in their voices and the youthful pride they have. My son Robert says, “Mommy I was good today, were you good today?” I reply saying, “Yes Yamni, anything to get home sooner to my babies.” He said, “You be good mommy then I be good, promise.” My daughter Laressa says “Mama, when you get home, I want to have a party and everyone is invited.” I replied by saying, “I want strawberry cake,” they both cheered in unison with pure joy in their hearts. I would give anything to stay on this phone with them until my final day in this cage that they call prison.

We live in a prison within ourselves and in society. COVID- 19 has put a huge set back in today’s world. It has affected me tremendously in prison because I cannot see my loved ones, have any human contact, and I have to wear masks all the time, which means no fresh air. This definitely has increased depression and anxiety to where I do not want to wake up, eat, or work. Once the phone call ends once again with the last of my two hour phone call I’m allotted for the day, I begin the lost thought process once more. All I can do is be the strength and glue that will keep the love solid and potent. I have to be better than I was before this sentence, and make sure I stay that way for the sake of my children and myself. In short, the loneliness of my cell prevails.

Brittany Two Two, YC NCCW, 2nd Cohort

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Adverse Side-effects While on a trip she received a call You must go home until next fall Home is where she can not stay Since her parents feel she has gone astray A start to a new life She was looking to be a wife She met a boy and it was great Until she had to leave the state With her family already broken How could God take away her token She felt invisible and sad Then she lost her dad He ran away just like everyone before Nobody stays even with her open door The children were crying And she was trying To mend the family with love and kindness Even though she felt like nothing Home should be a place of safety But that is where she felt empty Fighting battles she never thought she’d face Now she has to leave without a trace She still cries herself to sleep at night But she knows God is fighting the good fight She lays down to catch a breath And somehow she feels at peace Praying for this nightmare to be put to bed She sees a light at the end of the tunnel ahead Covid is a virus that affects lives too If not just the sickness that can get to you.

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Makayla Rowan, Junior: Psychology

Isolated I was happy and content. I had my life under control. I was okay. Then I was put into that room. Whitewashed walls, much like the ones I had come from, but they were so… empty. My friends supported me, but nothing could fill the distance.

It was a lonely existence, filled with vacancy. Lack of substantial food, lack of people, lack of myself. I sat, attending class through a screen, pretending to be there. Others were given options, but I was left to rot.

So, I did.

After a month of struggle, five days have passed, and I’m free to go. “Glad to have you back.” “We missed you.” “You feeling better?” No, I really don’t feel better.

I don’t feel like I’m back. I appreciate that you missed me, but what did I miss? Has it always been autumn? The leaves were thriving before I went in, how did they die so fast? I- I’m sorry could you repeat that? Sorry, I forgot that was today. Is this even the same campus that I left? I suppose the sun is still shining like before, but it’s accompanied by Bitter Wind.

Maybe he killed my leaves.

I would like to know, but I’ve none the time to find out. After class I have to get to class, and after that I need to get to class. In the evening I finally reach my passion. Wait, no, something is wrong. Line? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were already off book. I’m not prepared to live my life off book; I need to see my lines again. Sorry, I know everyone else is ready for it, or at least they’re terrific actors.

I’m struggling.

Wait, no, sorry. They’re doing more, and they’re doing fine, or at least they’re terrific actors. If they can handle their load, I must handle mine. I love it here, but I can’t remember what here looks like anymore. I want my leaves back; they were here last spring. I can’t tell if you’re smiling politely or grimacing at me, I only see your piercing eyes. I’m outside but these whitewashed walls are closing in. It’s getting harder to breath, and the walls aren’t stopping. But if the walls aren’t stopping, that means I don’t get to either.

Well. Maybe for a second.

I do need to catch my breath… ...

I awaken under the rubble. I reach my hand out from underneath, but no one can hear my suffering.

Or maybe they’re just terrific actors.

Eli Embray, Sophomore: English

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“A Storm” I feel so weighed down by the world.

Screaming voices all around.

Emotions scattered everywhere.

Every day I feel that there’s just one more thing to shock, to scare, to bemoan, to grieve, to mourn. A new straw to place high on top the camel’s back.

What is happening to us these days?

Where has human connection gone?

Why do I reach out and find. . . nothing?

Every year will bring new challenges, and we each will learn to face our own personal storms. But this year, everything hits me, and your cyclone sweeps me off my feet too.

At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Toilet paper? Social insanity.

Even still, I can’t understand.

Every morning I wake with apprehension. Will there be sunshine or rain? Will there be riots or peace? Will there be dissention or connection? Will discourse ever be civil again?

And every blow hits like a roundhouse.

Every new cut stings with lemon juice.

Small pricks send me into anaphylaxis.

All I want to do is nurture the world. I want to cure the hurt in each individual heart.

I want to speak, to disagree, to still love one another. I feel your pain, although you may not see.

But I can’t heal your hurt.

And so I do what I can.

Day and night, I pray.

The new day may bring more storms, instead of light. It’s always darkest before the dawn. But dawn is coming. Only time will tell when.

Amalia Magner, Senior: English

Chronic Quarantine Quarantine.

An unfamiliar word a year ago.

A word that has changed so many lives.

But not mine.

Or should I say, very little, at least.

You didn’t know why I’d be missing some days.

You never knew why I’d disappear.

Well, now I’m right here.

To tell you this was my life, before it was yours.

Loneliness. Isolation. Pain. Fear. Prayers.

My life hasn’t changed much.

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I live in constant pain.

But I refuse to live in fear.

You never saw the symptoms.

That’s why it’s called invisible.

It isn’t like a broken arm.

Consolation, time, healing, the pain is gone.

No, instead this is a constant ache.

Holding me back, every day.

Before they were mandatory, I’d put on my mask.

Though you never saw it, it was there.

Hiding the pain behind my eyes.

Holding back tears, until you’re gone.

Until I am isolated, alone.

Alone, once more.

Pandemic? Yes. Of unanswered questions.

Of unsolved pain.

This illness I bear: No one can catch it.

Few can see it.

But all have had a taste.

Now, maybe you can understand.

My chronic quarantine.

Amalia Magner, Senior: English

Artwork: Eli Embray, Sophmore: English

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Illuminated Life Someone unexpectedly grabbed my hand On an ordinarily pleasant September day.

I was gripped by fear as I earnestly pled, “Leave me alone. Go away!”

But Death held me firmly and would not let me go He held me by my neck with his serrated knife And whispered knowingly, “It is not death that Death teaches you, but life.”

Death could no longer be ignored or denied As that heavy word “cancer” reverberated in my ear.

I have gone through life pretending he was far away, But he has always been beside me, and oh, so near.

As cancer shook my life upside down, I stopped struggling and looked Death squarely in the eyes.

I carefully listened to his wisdom and advice And saw that Life was the one who had told me lies.

Under Death’s care, my priorities shifted.

My love deepened, and I ended senseless strife.

My faith grew stronger and worthless pursuits ceased; “It is not death that Death teaches me, but life.”

Someone unexpectedly grabbed our hands On an ordinarily pleasant 2020 Spring day, We were gripped by fear as we earnestly pled, “Leave us alone, go away!”

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Death could no longer be ignored or denied, As that heavy word “COVID” reverberated in our ears.

We have gone through life pretending he was far away, But, he has always been beside us, and oh, so near.

We close our eyes and try to look away, But, Death comes ever closer and forces an embrace, We can feel his breath on our necks, and he will not leave.

Will we try to ignore him or gaze deeply upon his face?

By keeping him close and opening our eyes, We will elevate our mission and goals.

Our view will not be clouded by earth’s trivialities; Instead, we will be able to focus on the needs of our souls.

Death and I are now intimate friends.

I can’t look away; I won’t look away.

We dance cheek to cheek as he whispers in my ear, And gently reminds me to be intentional in each day.

How odd that this dark Death brings Life’s light.

As long as we lean in to what he has to say.

And whether we attempt to keep him close or far, He is always the same distance away.

The greatest tragedy of Cancer, Covid-19, or other calamity Is closing our hearts to Death and the afterlife.

Death should not be denied, ignored, and forgotten.

Because it is not death that Death teaches us, but life.

Laura (Busch) Morris, Class of 1987

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I Have a Power You’ll Never Touch You pray to the same god I do Yet your prayers are heard by ears as old as time Your pain is seen by eyes containing the embryos of cataracts You pray to the god of colonialism You pray to the god of patriarchy You pray to the god of heterosexism You pray to the whitewashed, overrated, misinterpreted, underwhelming, mass-murdering, abusive Jesus that every other good Christian prays to

You want to hear about who I pray to?

When I am weak I pray to the wheelchair-bound, latinx, gendernonconforming person with short neon green hair and a heart so big the whole world is contained within it.

Ze shows me how strong I really am.

When I feel alone I pray To the black woman with a deep alto voice. She sings to me love songs in languages I cannot comprehend but they bring me hope for a better day. She brings me her own friends as company and we sit and eat and drink. We are merry together She shows me how I am never alone

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When I am tired, hungry, thirsty, poor I pray To the Muslim child, the one who plays in their imagination with abandon. The one who shares their food, their drink, their bed, with me.

They show me what generosity looks like.

When I am unforgiving towards myself or others I pray To the disembodied idea of love, I pray To nature, themself, I pray To the moon, I pray To the sun, The stars, A tree, I pray To myself

You may have control over the buildings available to worship in, filled with your deaf, blind, malnourished, rotting religion. But my gods are alive and well and they are ready to bring change to this world through me.

Hayden Brown, Junior: Secondary Education, English

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I Am God When I walk into a room All eyes turn towards the most magnificent being They could possibly see When I slide past them, Shoulders high Back straight Hands gracefully swaying They cower at my power They shiver from the sliver Of my beauty that I deem them worthy of.

When they attempt to speak to me I am given a choice: Shall I be wrathful or benevolent?

Wrathful I stop them for their insolence.

How dare they think they are close enough to my glory?

To my grace?

To my beauty?

To my strength?

How dare they deem their lives worthy of a conversation With me?

They shall not finish a word.

Then I slice them with my eyes.

Straight to the soul.

I cut their neck with my boot heel,

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As I berate them with the truth They refuse to see As a father does to an immature child I punish them for their naiveté and proceed with my business Benevolent I stop: Wait for them to finish their critique of my dress.

Like an understanding mother, I know why they believe their opinions are important enough To share with me.

And as a loving educator I instruct them thus, “Who is your god?

Who is she?

The one who feeds Israel from her teat?

Coddling them, through their hatred and aggression towards her, As only a mother could?

Who is she?

Who is he?

The god of righteous indignation?

The one who tears those down from power and thrusts them into the pit?

Causing civilizations to crumble and breaking down barriers for others In the glorious name of love?

Who is they?

The being that has both a limp wrist and a strong jaw?

I am all of them. And you shall treat me as such.”

Hayden Brown, Junior: Secondary Education, English

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Hope Through COVID-19 The loneliness is a blanket that keeps me cold.

The mask I wear on my face hides the pain in my eyes, covering all that I cannot speak.

Fear of this illness is the breeze that bathes us.

His voice on the phone reflects the sorrow of my own, tearing open the wound and it’s bleeding.

Memories sustain me, yet are they enough?

Uncertainties are the leaves that pirouette in the wind.

Already isolated, who could understand more?

The death toll is a tsunami, wreaking havoc on our foundation Every day apart is a pulse through my core, disturbing what I thought I knew.

When will it end, how will we know?

Yet, hope is the stream that floods us forward, propelling us to persevere.

We will endure.

Sarah Cullen: NCCW: 2nd Cohort, Fall 2021

Photo Credit: Cindy Webb Hurt, Class of 1985

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Six Feet Apart

When our son came home for spring break during his freshman year of college, he was thankful to spend time with his girlfriend. They had been in different states for the school year since she was still a senior in high school. With the new threat of COVID-19, students didn’t return to campus after spring break, but finished the semester online. Because my husband is at high risk for serious complications due to kidney transplant and other health issues, I knew we needed to take steps to protect him. The next several months were difficult to navigate while trying to keep everyone safe but also maintain a degree of contentment. Our son and his girlfriend were respectful of each plan I implemented, even though I’m certain it often felt extreme. There were periods of time when they were only together in our backyard, six feet apart.

Donna Busch Embray, YC Alumnus: Class of 1992

Photo Credit: Donna Busch Embray, Class of 1992

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The Art of Persistence

When I entered the second semester of my Freshman year at York College, I never expected the changes that would be heading my way. I had just begun a relationship as we entered the finals week of the previous semester. Little did I know that by the end of the semester I would be engaged, nor did I have any clue the heartache the coming year would bring. The time since starting that semester seems to be riddled with persistence. Persistence of love, joy, happiness, and celebration, as well as grief, destruction, and helplessness. Good, bad, ugly, and best. This time of struggling with COVID-19 has brought all of these. It has taught us the reality of persistence.

As I said, I went into the second semester of my freshmen year in a new relationship. My now Fiancee´ and I had only been dating for about a month at that point. However, over the coming months, we began to see the way that God was uniting us. We were seeing God bring something together that was amazing and beautiful.

We were convinced that our relationship was something of divine providence and that we were in the midst of a beautiful work of God.

At the beginning of the semester, I was also unaware of the sorrow that would be heading toward the world, nor to me and my fiancé personally. Sure, we had to finish the school year online. But the weight of loss that many have endured during the same time cannot be compared. Before the year was over, my fiancé lost her grandfather, and before we had time to grieve, I learned of my own grandfather’s passing to COVID-19. Countless others were in the same boat as us. People were stuck at far distances, getting broken and inconsistent reports from family members unable to be by their dying loved ones. For me, a biology major, I pieced together the signs pointing to my Grandfather’s soon passing while attending the funeral of my fianceé’s grandfather. At that time, it seemed like the grief was persistently pursuing us.

Over the 2020-2021 school year at York College, it seemed more common than usual for people to have discussions about depression and anxiety; people were more vocal about their struggles. People wrote about their experiences of being isolated from society and the rest of campus as they were fed ill-prepared food from a cafeteria that was not properly outfitted to handle the new methods enacted for feeding COVID19-positive students. The struggle was persistent.

Along with all of the struggles present in the new reality in which the world was living, the students at York College had a somewhat normal host of joys and difficulties. They won games, they performed, they dated, they figured out a little bit more of life. They likewise lost games, practiced harder than they ever had, overcame quarantine, and graduated with honors. York College learned the art of persistence.

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For me, this meant discussing an upcoming wedding. We prepared, and we saved for the day and our better tomorrow. Our hope was persistent that we would eventually overcome the struggles we were presently facing. It also meant learning how to overcome a difficult upbringing that saw me bringing lots of baggage into my 20s.

As of writing this, I don’t know when things will start becoming normal again. No one does, really. Especially when it comes to the students, faculty, and staff of York College. But it is hard to deny that this year has taught us all something very crucial. There are times when pain, difficulty, and loss will be persistent, they won’t stop knocking on our door. But equally important, we’ve learned to cling to the good around us; we’ve learned to be persistent. We’ve learned to take a stance of determination, and to not give up on a better tomorrow. We have learned the art of knowing persistence intimately.

Michael “Ben” Falco, Sophomore: Biology

Photo Credit: Elias Dallmann, Secondary Education, English

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