They say that faith
Comes in all shapes sizes
But instead,
there is only one
form of faith, defense.
We create deities
to defends us from
our fear.
The fear of death,
The fear of the dark,
The fear that consumes us all.
We create our gods
to push away the darkness,
and create a fake haven,
a place of false hope.
But we all know,
that the darkness of night
will always
return
Karl Schapfel // NIGHT
Conner Lofstrom // MOUNTAIN HOME
He stood atop the white, vast mountain.
His home.
Covered in darkness
The wind chilled across the layers of life
the pitch black ripples in parts of Bear Lake.
His friends swaying loosely in the wind
Giving off pleasant drafts of sweet caramel and soothing vanilla
Nothing but silence as the falling of snow began to bow at his friendly feet
Every step causing the snow to hug to his boot one by one.
Walking towards a bright blue ball of light and warmth that rose in the midst of the white spects
Melting the hearts of living things around.
He no longer saw the dark ripples but saw them begin to
Transform to a teal and light blue body that freely flowed, elegantly making way for all in its path.
All except the friendly moose
gracefully eating the lush green
Wet silky moss hidden beneath the sheets of the ice.
As he stood up pridefully with his rack of enormous horns.
Light glimmered across the glassy lake
reflecting light onto the darkened trees
On the animals in the sky and on the ground.
An unstoppable force to be reckoned with.
If only he could be there to experience it once again.
Hannah E. // FUNERALS
Funerals
I’ve decided
Are for the living.
When someone dies
They pass the pain in their life onto the people left behind.
And when you lose someone you love,
Every little task
Is energy draining
and life sucking.
It’s a war to think,
And a battle to feel.
And reality comes in little waves
And fully submerge you and you’ll drown.
And the harder you fight,
The harder it is to breathe and to think and to just
Be.
And then every little memory builds up until they all crash and suddenly
There is a hole in the shape of them in your heart.
Your world goes colorless
All emotions and feelings are stripped from your everyday life.
The sound of their name
Rolling off of someone’s tongue
Puts a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes
but you smile,
And pretend everything is all right.
Because everything is.
You only grieve when there is nobody to see you at your most vulnerable,
To see you heave and shake
Until your knees buckle and everything blurs
And you have to focus on
In…. and out
In… and out
Because suddenly,
It has became in out in out in out and the room is shaking
And the world is spinning
And it hits you
Like the ground does when you walk down the stairs
Missing the last step,
That this was how they felt.
Because before you lost them,
They lost themselves.
And all of your unused love for them disintegrates into grief and hate
Hate for not doing anything when it crossed your mind
Hate for not reminding them that they were so loved
Hate
For not saving their life
Because you were too blind to see they were drowning.
Grief is the price we must all pay for love
We need to have both to truly appreciate love
And truly feel grief,
Because I think deep down
Grief is just expired love.
So we take all of our expired love,
Dress like death,
And prove that we will love again
With each shiny teardrop
That streams down our trembling cheeks
Every time someone we love falls
Like a leaf from on orange oak tree
On a brisk October morning.
Philip Eisner // PENCIL
Long and sharp-
a spear thrown by an ancient army
Swiftly soaring through the sky
Stabbing the target.
In the soldier’s mind
It scribes the horrors of war
Imprinting the moment
He was hit by the spear.
As the soldier grips the pencil-
Making dark marks on the page
He remembers when words instead of actions
Could have been the difference.
On the fateful day
A deafening boom
And he was speared by a shard
Leaving him in bed, with nothing to do but write.
Tej Chhabra // THE BIG YELLOW HOUSE
The big yellow house
With the large green yard
Where I grew up in Connecticut
My memories,
still
Here,
There,
everywhere.
Fishing in the pond
Just down the road,
From the big yellow house
Flying down the zipline,
In the backyard,
Of the big yellow house
Jumping on the slip n slide
Swimming in the pool
During the summer
At the big yellow house
Walking in the backyard,
to the woods
To the river,
To the pond,
That is just down the road,
From the big yellow house
Mehr Khuran // LIFE OR DEATH
Air hostess by day,
partying by night
One day, on the plane
terrorists were there
No one knew
Life was at risk
For everyone, not just me.
I told myself
be confident.
The plane stopped in Karachi, Pakistan
and everyone freaked out
The terrorists pointed
the gun
at the kids
at the end after
everyone was out
of the plane.
I jumped in
front of the kids
and was shot down.
I died
because
I saved many
lives.
I died
with pride and
those three kids
alive.
I died
with confidence that
I did the right thing.
Hopefully,
this confidence inspires
others to become
a air hostess because
it is not an easy job or
responsibility.
It is important to
realize how a job
doesn’t only come with
working, it comes with
accountability; whether
others can depend on
you or not.
Therefore, I died with
a award in my name and
my parents and
country
proud of me.
Anita K // SPOOKY ACTION AT A DISTANCE
Suspended and surrounded by nothing,
alone.
Neither to one side nor another,
Always up and down.
Always here and there,
But not in between.
A partner doing the same,
Farther away that I can see.
In time but not together.
Faster than light, or slower.
Or maybe not moving at all. No one knows.
Always present,
A part of everything, but
Never visible.
A frontier to never explore.
Max DiCerbo // EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED
In order to expect the unexpected
Unexpected becomes expected
Therefore leaving the expected for unexpected
But to prepare for both,
What should you be expecting?
Both expected and unexpected
Equally unexpected or expected
For all we know there is more than just
Expected and unexpected
And no matter how prepared you think you are
The expected will always be unexpected
Lihan Lin // WATCH BY MOM
A watch given by my mom
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tells me to save my time.
But I rarely go with him
All I want
Is not to be limited by it,
Limited by time.
I used to put him in a box
High on the shelf
And watch the hands goes
As time passes.
Someone might be sad
if I treated him like this,
I still think about it sometimes
Am I wrong?
Alexander Peng // PENGUINKIND
Resident of the barren, white plains
Huangdi of the Spheniscidae s trains
Custodian of the southern winter fringes,
An emperor.
Noble tuxedoed avian of the winterland
Flightless, ungainly as if completely unplanned
A torpedo in the water
Yet disregarded by the augur
Braving through the frozen bath of white
And marching through the night
Facing the eternal fury of the Antarctic plateau.
Alone to inhabit their frozen chateau.
Wishing not anything sweet to eat
No need for others to greet
Content with their uncontested reign
Humble rulers of an empty domain.