Table of Contents
Ups and Downs
Kelly Ward '19
Pieces of the Sky
Kelly Ward '19
Why We Fight
Grace Brenner '21
My Perfect World
Brynn Swanson '19
La Victoire n'est pas Toute
Grace Brenner '21
The Tails of Two Kitties
Grace Brenner '21
Blunt Yellow Flower
Grace Brenner '21
Exam Week
Grace Brenner '21
High School Marching Band: An Opportunity Too Thrilling to Overlook
Gavin Pu '21
Untitled
Gavin Pu '21
Ten Minutes
Kelly Ward '19
Until You Lose Your Way
Grace Brenner '21
Snow Cone
Riley Murphy '21
I Walk the Winter Wood
Grace Brenner '21
Before the Lava
Kelly Ward '19
The Haunted Words
Audrey Gentile '22
Monday VS. Friday
Grace Brenner '21
Op. 2 No. 4 Sonatina Mvmt. 2 No. 8
Gavin Pu '21
Wishes in the Wind
Catherine Adams '21
Back on Track
Grace Brenner '21
Set Sail
Grace Brenner '21
Sky on Fire
Grace Brenner '21
Bright Blooms
Catherine Adams '21
Tropical Wind
Catherine Adams '21
To Love a Gold-Digger
Jessica Navin '19
A Thousand Words
Jessica Navin '19
Prismatic Spectrum
Jenni Wheeler '21
Facing In or Facing Out?
Grace Brenner '21
The Camp Effect
Gavin Pu '21
Road
Riley Murphy '21
Arithmetic
Audrey Gentile '22
Life's a Journey, Enjoy the Ride
Grace Brenner '21
A Light in the Darkness
Audrey Gentile '22
Almost Black
Alexindra Wheeler '19
Goodbye is a Sunset
Grace Brenner '21
[Untitled]
Audrey Gentile '22
Jumbo's Nook
Catherine Adams '21
City Streets
Kelly Ward '19
Sunset Skyline
Maddie Rzepka '22
Will vs. Waves
Nicole Kendall '19
I'll be your gardener
Casey Vieira '22
Up, up and away
Grace Brenner '21
Glass Songbirds
Jessica Navin '19
The Lost Hat
Audrey Gentile '22
Blank Page
Nicole Kendall '19
Rain Flying By
Riley Murphy '21
Red Bliss Upon the Horizon
Catherine Adams '21
Her Books
Aymon Langlois '19
Oh, the Places You'll Go.
Grace Brenner '21
La Ville de L'amour
Grace Brenner '21
Look Like the Innocent Flower
Grace Brenner '21
Autumn Glory
Grace Brenner '21
From Under the Brush
Audrey Gentile '22
For the Love of a Doggo
Grace Brenner '21
Kelly Ward '19
Pieces of the Sky
Kelly Ward '19
Why We Fight
Grace Brenner '21
My Perfect World
Brynn Swanson '19
La Victoire n'est pas Toute
Grace Brenner '21
The Tails of Two Kitties
Grace Brenner '21
Blunt Yellow Flower
Grace Brenner '21
Exam Week
Grace Brenner '21
High School Marching Band: An Opportunity Too Thrilling to Overlook
Gavin Pu '21
Untitled
Gavin Pu '21
Ten Minutes
Kelly Ward '19
Until You Lose Your Way
Grace Brenner '21
Snow Cone
Riley Murphy '21
I Walk the Winter Wood
Grace Brenner '21
Before the Lava
Kelly Ward '19
The Haunted Words
Audrey Gentile '22
Monday VS. Friday
Grace Brenner '21
Op. 2 No. 4 Sonatina Mvmt. 2 No. 8
Gavin Pu '21
Wishes in the Wind
Catherine Adams '21
Back on Track
Grace Brenner '21
Set Sail
Grace Brenner '21
Sky on Fire
Grace Brenner '21
Bright Blooms
Catherine Adams '21
Tropical Wind
Catherine Adams '21
To Love a Gold-Digger
Jessica Navin '19
A Thousand Words
Jessica Navin '19
Prismatic Spectrum
Jenni Wheeler '21
Facing In or Facing Out?
Grace Brenner '21
The Camp Effect
Gavin Pu '21
Road
Riley Murphy '21
Arithmetic
Audrey Gentile '22
Life's a Journey, Enjoy the Ride
Grace Brenner '21
A Light in the Darkness
Audrey Gentile '22
Almost Black
Alexindra Wheeler '19
Goodbye is a Sunset
Grace Brenner '21
[Untitled]
Audrey Gentile '22
Jumbo's Nook
Catherine Adams '21
City Streets
Kelly Ward '19
Sunset Skyline
Maddie Rzepka '22
Will vs. Waves
Nicole Kendall '19
I'll be your gardener
Casey Vieira '22
Up, up and away
Grace Brenner '21
Glass Songbirds
Jessica Navin '19
The Lost Hat
Audrey Gentile '22
Blank Page
Nicole Kendall '19
Rain Flying By
Riley Murphy '21
Red Bliss Upon the Horizon
Catherine Adams '21
Her Books
Aymon Langlois '19
Oh, the Places You'll Go.
Grace Brenner '21
La Ville de L'amour
Grace Brenner '21
Look Like the Innocent Flower
Grace Brenner '21
Autumn Glory
Grace Brenner '21
From Under the Brush
Audrey Gentile '22
For the Love of a Doggo
Grace Brenner '21
Ups and Downs
Pieces of the Sky
Kelly Ward '19
Why We Fight
We are free now from our bondage
Though not yet from ourselves-
For the past, it still defines us,
Into our spirits it still delves.
It is time to rewrite history-
For the textbooks on the shelves.
The centuries of silence
That have eroded through our souls-
Rise up now like a silver flame
To fill our nation’s holes.
Liberty may cost a token
And freedom has its toll-
But regardless we were broken
And now we can be whole.
Our past, it may be tainted
Our present held in chains
But a brighter future will prevail
And our dreams, they do remain-
Of life, love, and prosperity
For we do not fight in vain.
To avenge the dark and evil
That robbed us of our light-
And for our fallen brothers,
This is why we fight.
The cold hands of injustice
Still threaten to dethrone
Us kings from all the kingdoms
That have become our own.
We seek to cut the ties
That bind us to the night
To see the golden sun at last-
This is why we fight.
We will endure the pain inside us
Our defenses paper-thin-
But we will not raise our flag to them-
We will not let them win.
We’ve shared with you our story-
We’ve told you why we fight
And now we ask you why it matters
More than you thought it might.
We leave you now to wonder
What difference it does make-
To challenge all you know so well,
To bend so far you break?
Both answers lie somewhere inside us
Beside our beating heart-
Urging us to come together
Before we fall apart.
Grace Brenner '21
Though not yet from ourselves-
For the past, it still defines us,
Into our spirits it still delves.
It is time to rewrite history-
For the textbooks on the shelves.
The centuries of silence
That have eroded through our souls-
Rise up now like a silver flame
To fill our nation’s holes.
Liberty may cost a token
And freedom has its toll-
But regardless we were broken
And now we can be whole.
Our past, it may be tainted
Our present held in chains
But a brighter future will prevail
And our dreams, they do remain-
Of life, love, and prosperity
For we do not fight in vain.
To avenge the dark and evil
That robbed us of our light-
And for our fallen brothers,
This is why we fight.
The cold hands of injustice
Still threaten to dethrone
Us kings from all the kingdoms
That have become our own.
We seek to cut the ties
That bind us to the night
To see the golden sun at last-
This is why we fight.
We will endure the pain inside us
Our defenses paper-thin-
But we will not raise our flag to them-
We will not let them win.
We’ve shared with you our story-
We’ve told you why we fight
And now we ask you why it matters
More than you thought it might.
We leave you now to wonder
What difference it does make-
To challenge all you know so well,
To bend so far you break?
Both answers lie somewhere inside us
Beside our beating heart-
Urging us to come together
Before we fall apart.
Grace Brenner '21
My Perfect World
We went on a drive, through the town, at midnight. He was mad, I had made him mad. That night I didn’t care, but now its my biggest regret. He had rules, he said. He had rules, because the world wasn’t a perfect place. No matter how perfect it seemed in our happy suburban family, it wasn’t. There is pain and danger, he reminded me. We crashed, it wasn’t at all his fault. A drunk teen, the exact reason he scolded me, hit us right in the drivers side. I don’t remember how, but I ended up across the street, pulled out by a stranger, maybe an angel, or maybe a demon. That changes depending on my mood.
The fire and heat evaporated all the tears. My eyes were empty; dry. I sat, ten feet away, and watched. Watched as the fire ventured, closer and closer to my father. It began in the engine, consuming every paint chip, and duct tape fix my dad had meticulously placed on that hood. I watched, as my father turned into a shadow, and the shadow turned into flames. No movement in my body to save him, no movement in my mind to stop it. Yes, I watched my father die, and I couldn’t even cry.
The fire and heat evaporated all the tears. My eyes were empty; dry. I sat, ten feet away, and watched. Watched as the fire ventured, closer and closer to my father. It began in the engine, consuming every paint chip, and duct tape fix my dad had meticulously placed on that hood. I watched, as my father turned into a shadow, and the shadow turned into flames. No movement in my body to save him, no movement in my mind to stop it. Yes, I watched my father die, and I couldn’t even cry.
La Victoire n'est pas Toute
Winning is not Everything
On the next planet, the little prince met a very successful man. This planet was small, only larger than the planet of the lamplighter. The man, who was tall on his planet and who wore medals around his neck, looked at the little prince with a proud smile.
“Hello, little man. I am a winner,” said the man with a loud voice.
“Hello,” said the little prince. “What do you do here?”
“I win. I win a lot,” he responded simply. There were prizes and trophies between the little prince and the winner. Slowly, the little prince smiled.
“What kind of things do you win?” Asked the little prince, very interested.
“Everything. I have won a reading contest. I have won a spelling contest. I have won a race and I have won a windsurfing contest. I have won”-
The little prince interrupted him.
“Yes. I understand. I… I am a winner, too,” he said quietly.
“Really?” Asked the winner, who was looking at his reflection in a gold medal. “What have you won?”
The little prince thought of his flower. She was mean, sometimes, and very conceited, but he had loved her. Once upon a time, she made him happy.
“Uhh… I have won the love of a flower. She is beautiful…” he said sadly. He missed his rose. The little prince blinked in order to avoid tears. To his surprise, the winner laughed.
“Oh, what a stupid thing to say! Love is not something that you can win. Love is not important. Only winning is important,” said the man, who continued to laugh. “Medals, trophies, these are the things that are truly important. Do you understand?” He asked the little prince.
The little prince was confused. Why were adults so obsessed with winning? What was so good about a piece of gold metal? How come one cannot win love?
“Uhh… yes. Yes, I understand,” lied the little prince. He was looking at the winner, who took the medals in his arms and kissed them. The little prince knew that he had to leave.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have to… win a competition,” he said.
The winner did not respond. He was too preoccupied with his trophies.
“Adults,” said the little prince after leaving, “they are very strange. They think that winning is everything. But, if you don’t have love… winning is useless.”
And again, he thought of his rose.
“Hello, little man. I am a winner,” said the man with a loud voice.
“Hello,” said the little prince. “What do you do here?”
“I win. I win a lot,” he responded simply. There were prizes and trophies between the little prince and the winner. Slowly, the little prince smiled.
“What kind of things do you win?” Asked the little prince, very interested.
“Everything. I have won a reading contest. I have won a spelling contest. I have won a race and I have won a windsurfing contest. I have won”-
The little prince interrupted him.
“Yes. I understand. I… I am a winner, too,” he said quietly.
“Really?” Asked the winner, who was looking at his reflection in a gold medal. “What have you won?”
The little prince thought of his flower. She was mean, sometimes, and very conceited, but he had loved her. Once upon a time, she made him happy.
“Uhh… I have won the love of a flower. She is beautiful…” he said sadly. He missed his rose. The little prince blinked in order to avoid tears. To his surprise, the winner laughed.
“Oh, what a stupid thing to say! Love is not something that you can win. Love is not important. Only winning is important,” said the man, who continued to laugh. “Medals, trophies, these are the things that are truly important. Do you understand?” He asked the little prince.
The little prince was confused. Why were adults so obsessed with winning? What was so good about a piece of gold metal? How come one cannot win love?
“Uhh… yes. Yes, I understand,” lied the little prince. He was looking at the winner, who took the medals in his arms and kissed them. The little prince knew that he had to leave.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have to… win a competition,” he said.
The winner did not respond. He was too preoccupied with his trophies.
“Adults,” said the little prince after leaving, “they are very strange. They think that winning is everything. But, if you don’t have love… winning is useless.”
And again, he thought of his rose.
Grace Brenner '21
The Tails of Two Kitties
Grace Brenner '21
Blunt Yellow Flower
Grace Brenner '21
Exam Week
Grace Brenner '21
High School Marching Band: An Opportunity Too Thrilling to Overlook
RMHS marching band members strongly urge all students to join their organization for the experience of a lifetime. The marching season kicks off with band camp, a week in August that only contains a measly 42.5 hours of practice. The fortunate students are graciously blessed with long standstill rehearsals, stiff legs, and sunburns—all of which are gifts too kind to be given for simply participating in such an effortless activity. An interviewed student reports, “Your know, I’m quite grateful that band camp has made me more than prepared for my future life at work. I mean, I’m certain that none of my future jobs will have strict regulations on how its workers are allowed to walk. And what’s the deal with some legal 40-hour work week limit that people keep telling me about?” After the advent of the new school year, the fun continues with at least six hours of practice per week. “This is a secret, but weekly marching band practices last even longer than the five hours which high school classes can meet in a week,” a fellow band member says. “I’m sure that if my classes happened just as often as marching band, I wouldn't have started the year off with a solid F in geometry.”
The time spent practicing is put to good use through the level of rigor by which practices are conducted. Nothing less than perfection is expected from the student musicians. Even the most unnoticeable mistakes are quickly caught and courteously criticized. Such constructive criticism is often accompanied by rather forceful encouragement to practice the music at home, approximately twenty consecutive re-rehearsals of the same musical passage, and excessive yelling. These invigorating practices ultimately pay off when marching band competitions begin. Throughout mid-September to early November, students eagerly leap out of bed to commit each of their early Saturday mornings to an additional four hours of rehearsal on top of the six during the school week. The four-hour rehearsals are immediately followed by even more last-minute practicing at the site of the performance, spending ten glorious minutes maneuvering along a football field, and a five-hour wait crammed with nervous excitement before the band finally receives a plastic trophy award late at night. These Saturdays are far from wasted, as marching band students agree that their work is always recognized with such commemorative plastic objects, making the long, spectacular journey worth the minuscule time commitment by far. The trophies themselves are stored with pride amid hundreds of others on a high shelf above the instrument lockers where no one can read their labels.
Gavin Pu '21
The time spent practicing is put to good use through the level of rigor by which practices are conducted. Nothing less than perfection is expected from the student musicians. Even the most unnoticeable mistakes are quickly caught and courteously criticized. Such constructive criticism is often accompanied by rather forceful encouragement to practice the music at home, approximately twenty consecutive re-rehearsals of the same musical passage, and excessive yelling. These invigorating practices ultimately pay off when marching band competitions begin. Throughout mid-September to early November, students eagerly leap out of bed to commit each of their early Saturday mornings to an additional four hours of rehearsal on top of the six during the school week. The four-hour rehearsals are immediately followed by even more last-minute practicing at the site of the performance, spending ten glorious minutes maneuvering along a football field, and a five-hour wait crammed with nervous excitement before the band finally receives a plastic trophy award late at night. These Saturdays are far from wasted, as marching band students agree that their work is always recognized with such commemorative plastic objects, making the long, spectacular journey worth the minuscule time commitment by far. The trophies themselves are stored with pride amid hundreds of others on a high shelf above the instrument lockers where no one can read their labels.
Gavin Pu '21
Untitled
The Clouds, a Blanket for the Sky--
Did cover up the Sun,
Some Whites of Snow began to form
As they came tumbling down--
The Flakes fell crashing to the Ground
And there they would remain--
Until a Gale of Wind came forth
And scattered them—again
The Storm subsides—but not before
It piled up in haste--
Yet underneath a heavy Cloak--
The Ground remained unfazed
At last—the Risen Temperature
Did melt that which concealed,
The Water vanished—back in Air--
And Land again revealed
So one can try to hide the Facts--
With Plethoras of Lies,
But Time moves forth—the Truth shall come
Annihilate this Guise.
Gavin Pu '21
Did cover up the Sun,
Some Whites of Snow began to form
As they came tumbling down--
The Flakes fell crashing to the Ground
And there they would remain--
Until a Gale of Wind came forth
And scattered them—again
The Storm subsides—but not before
It piled up in haste--
Yet underneath a heavy Cloak--
The Ground remained unfazed
At last—the Risen Temperature
Did melt that which concealed,
The Water vanished—back in Air--
And Land again revealed
So one can try to hide the Facts--
With Plethoras of Lies,
But Time moves forth—the Truth shall come
Annihilate this Guise.
Gavin Pu '21
Ten Minutes
Kelly Ward '19
Until You Lose Your Way
Set fire to your worries
Your doubts and all your dread
And then begin a journey
To lose yourself instead.
Walk the winding roads of wonder
The ones that never end
And dare to dream and disappear
For time and space will mend.
Let the lonely shores surround you
And touch the mountain’s mist
Then wander ‘til you feel the chains
Tumble from your wrists.
Get up on a plane somewhere
That’s quiet and concealed
Maybe it's Antarctica
Or just an empty field.
Watch the sky unfold beneath you
Its sparkle and the stars
And forget exactly where you’re going
Maybe Jupiter or Mars?
Let the white-capped waves embrace you
As they swirl at your feet
And the songs of birds relax you
With each chirp and every tweet.
Lie upon the sandy shores
Or perhaps in your backyard
And forget for just a moment
That life can be so hard.
Drive along a winding road
Until you lose your way
And let the icy forest’s magic
Lead your mind astray.
Breathe in the beauty of the colors
That paint the sunset sky
Then watch as daylight fades to night
And your worries pass you by.
It can be quite scary
And daunting to let go
To lose yourself in the unknown
And let the rivers flow
But if you wander far enough
Under a sky that’s grey or blue
I know and I can promise
That you’ll find yourself there, too.
Grace Brenner '21
Your doubts and all your dread
And then begin a journey
To lose yourself instead.
Walk the winding roads of wonder
The ones that never end
And dare to dream and disappear
For time and space will mend.
Let the lonely shores surround you
And touch the mountain’s mist
Then wander ‘til you feel the chains
Tumble from your wrists.
Get up on a plane somewhere
That’s quiet and concealed
Maybe it's Antarctica
Or just an empty field.
Watch the sky unfold beneath you
Its sparkle and the stars
And forget exactly where you’re going
Maybe Jupiter or Mars?
Let the white-capped waves embrace you
As they swirl at your feet
And the songs of birds relax you
With each chirp and every tweet.
Lie upon the sandy shores
Or perhaps in your backyard
And forget for just a moment
That life can be so hard.
Drive along a winding road
Until you lose your way
And let the icy forest’s magic
Lead your mind astray.
Breathe in the beauty of the colors
That paint the sunset sky
Then watch as daylight fades to night
And your worries pass you by.
It can be quite scary
And daunting to let go
To lose yourself in the unknown
And let the rivers flow
But if you wander far enough
Under a sky that’s grey or blue
I know and I can promise
That you’ll find yourself there, too.
Grace Brenner '21
Snow Cone
Riley Murphy '21
I Walk the Winter Wood
Amid a sky of silver dreams
I walk the winter wood
A place where frozen flurries fall
And all is understood.
Through the angels of the wind
I hear the world whisper
I feel their frosty fingers flitter on my skin
Cold like the air, but even crisper.
There is beauty in the snowy trails
The ones “less traveled by”
The lonely road that will prevail
If one does dare to try.
Amid a sky of silver dreams
I walk the winter wood
Catching snowflakes on my tongue
Oh, the joys of childhood.
As the daylight sparkle turns to night
And silver does turn black
I know for sure that the forest’s magic
Will always lure me back.
I breathe in time with sound and silence
And at last I understand
Just how lovely life can be
In winter wonderland.
Grace Brenner '21
I walk the winter wood
A place where frozen flurries fall
And all is understood.
Through the angels of the wind
I hear the world whisper
I feel their frosty fingers flitter on my skin
Cold like the air, but even crisper.
There is beauty in the snowy trails
The ones “less traveled by”
The lonely road that will prevail
If one does dare to try.
Amid a sky of silver dreams
I walk the winter wood
Catching snowflakes on my tongue
Oh, the joys of childhood.
As the daylight sparkle turns to night
And silver does turn black
I know for sure that the forest’s magic
Will always lure me back.
I breathe in time with sound and silence
And at last I understand
Just how lovely life can be
In winter wonderland.
Grace Brenner '21
Before the Lava
Kelly Ward '19
The Haunted Words
Audrey Gentile '22
Monday VS. Friday
Grace Brenner '21
Op. 2 No. 4 Sonatina Mvmt. 2 No. 8
op._2_no._4_-_sonatina_mvmt._2_no._8 | |
File Size: | 5931 kb |
File Type: | op. 2 no. 4 - sonatina mvmt. 2 no. 8 |
Gavin Pu '21
Wishes in the Wind
Catherine Adams '21
Back on Track
Grace Brenner '21
Set Sail
Grace Brenner '21
Sky on Fire
Grace Brenner '21
Bright Blooms
Catherine Adams '21
Tropical Wind
Catherine Adams '21
To Love a Gold-Digger
You love the flowers at my grave,
The yellow buds and rose--
But I catch your plucking hand
‘fore I could decompose.
And you would take the shroud from me
Without a second glance
Because the fabric’s soft and light,
Because there is a chance.
I don’t know why you’ve left me so
Alone and underground;
But you had always loved my things
And dreamt of being crowned.
I do suppose I’ve been a fool
To give you all above,
Yet still I give you one last gift--
My little scrap of love.
Jessica Navin '19
The yellow buds and rose--
But I catch your plucking hand
‘fore I could decompose.
And you would take the shroud from me
Without a second glance
Because the fabric’s soft and light,
Because there is a chance.
I don’t know why you’ve left me so
Alone and underground;
But you had always loved my things
And dreamt of being crowned.
I do suppose I’ve been a fool
To give you all above,
Yet still I give you one last gift--
My little scrap of love.
Jessica Navin '19
A Thousand Words
Here are some words for your picture,
A stream of gold broken by a black boat--
With a pretty hand at the hull
And a broken back by the oar.
Stoop low to breathe the morning,
Blue and blue and blue.
Cut it with a yellow knife like you would cut my throat--
A smile as the sun rises.
A whisper out the red-brick bridge,
Fleeing the footsteps of a dance that turns to an endless song;
You can turn the boat round and round,
But you'll land ashore before it's done.
Whorl your palm across the slippery skin of the water,
And wish it could kiss your brow.
If you slipped into its silky arms, it would hold you tight, forever--
But it's not soft arms you want.
You beg the sun all its gold,
And the Earth its silver pendant,
And the emerald of a child's dream,
And blood to wash them down;
And I beg too, both of us to cold, deaf ears.
But I linger here to watch
The mists of morning sweep you down the river,
As golden as those wishes,
As far from you as you from me.
Yet in this wash of light, you could pass for pure, and me, for pitiful.
I will sing you that song that never ends
As you slither on that little boat.
I'll whisper your name to the sweet pink flowers beside me,
Long after you've passed the bridge, long after you're gone.
You won't hear it.
Trace the faces of the clouds
That greet you one by one, as they draw you further away
And away and away, off to find a million others
To drown me out from memory.
A sweeping glance still picks you out,
The oars fanning out like swords to cut each clean blue face,
Carving your path away from hands that try to touch you, that reach out,
As sad as mine.
I see your dreams taking their first breaths,
Stealing the air from my own.
I wanted them to walk together, once--
That black boat and my hands on the hull;
Dreams of a rose-quartz-sky, not knowing you'd already colored it yellow.
I know you see the green behind your back,
As your eyes stare at the blue, and see me staring at your shadow.
You feel my nails bite my palms, and the hardness creep back into my eyes,
As I feel the wood chafe your hands,
And your eyes strain against the light.
An echo crawls across the dawn,
Almost in your voice, over the water, riding on a gentle breeze.
It nearly misses my straining ear,
But the song catches me in the throat:
I'll bring you back a thousand words.
Jessica Navin '19
A stream of gold broken by a black boat--
With a pretty hand at the hull
And a broken back by the oar.
Stoop low to breathe the morning,
Blue and blue and blue.
Cut it with a yellow knife like you would cut my throat--
A smile as the sun rises.
A whisper out the red-brick bridge,
Fleeing the footsteps of a dance that turns to an endless song;
You can turn the boat round and round,
But you'll land ashore before it's done.
Whorl your palm across the slippery skin of the water,
And wish it could kiss your brow.
If you slipped into its silky arms, it would hold you tight, forever--
But it's not soft arms you want.
You beg the sun all its gold,
And the Earth its silver pendant,
And the emerald of a child's dream,
And blood to wash them down;
And I beg too, both of us to cold, deaf ears.
But I linger here to watch
The mists of morning sweep you down the river,
As golden as those wishes,
As far from you as you from me.
Yet in this wash of light, you could pass for pure, and me, for pitiful.
I will sing you that song that never ends
As you slither on that little boat.
I'll whisper your name to the sweet pink flowers beside me,
Long after you've passed the bridge, long after you're gone.
You won't hear it.
Trace the faces of the clouds
That greet you one by one, as they draw you further away
And away and away, off to find a million others
To drown me out from memory.
A sweeping glance still picks you out,
The oars fanning out like swords to cut each clean blue face,
Carving your path away from hands that try to touch you, that reach out,
As sad as mine.
I see your dreams taking their first breaths,
Stealing the air from my own.
I wanted them to walk together, once--
That black boat and my hands on the hull;
Dreams of a rose-quartz-sky, not knowing you'd already colored it yellow.
I know you see the green behind your back,
As your eyes stare at the blue, and see me staring at your shadow.
You feel my nails bite my palms, and the hardness creep back into my eyes,
As I feel the wood chafe your hands,
And your eyes strain against the light.
An echo crawls across the dawn,
Almost in your voice, over the water, riding on a gentle breeze.
It nearly misses my straining ear,
But the song catches me in the throat:
I'll bring you back a thousand words.
Jessica Navin '19
Prismatic Spectrum
Jenni Wheeler '21
Facing In or Facing Out?
Grace Brenner '21
The Camp Effect
A roommate and friend,
A promise that's hard to keep,
"I'll see you again."
A promise that's hard to keep,
"I'll see you again."
Gavin Pu '21
Road
Riley Murphy '21
Arithmetic
Audrey Gentile '22
Life's a Journey, Enjoy the Ride
Grace Brenner '21
A Light in the Darkness
Audrey Gentile '22
Almost Black
A long time ago, yellow was her favorite color. Yellow: the glow of sunshine warming her back on the sandy beach, the endless fields of daisies sprinkled across the lawn where she played soccer until sunset. Yellow: the bright hue made her smile. Until yellow became her. Until her body decided it didn’t like her and stopped functioning. Until she had cancer. Her days were dozens of tests. Her world the hospital floor. She hates yellow--hates the sickly color of her bare head and how the color makes her yearn for her lost blonde locks.
Yellow melts into blue. Stark-clean blue hospital gowns. Always uncomfortable. Blue when she sees her friends. Awkward. Too polite and reserved. Blue when the doctors sit her down with bad news. “Blue skies ahead,” they tell her, “only a few more treatments.” But the tears roll down her cheeks. Fat globs of heartbreak on her Get Well Soon cards until the words melt together. Even her hospital room has blue walls. She stares at them for days fading in and out of consciousness.
Months of blue until she loves green. When she wheels outside for the first time with arms almost too weak to push herself. All she can see is green. Surrounded by a verdant landscape. Fields of freshly-mowed grass, the scent still sharp in the air. Flowers grow along the garden. Bloom with promise. The azure sky above a canopy of bright maple leaves. Weeks pass. Teeter with a cane leading the way while inhaling the scent of fresh spring air ... check. Walk to the park alone ... check. Watch as a few seeds blossom into a thriving herb garden with her steadfast hands ... check. Rich soil crusting underneath her fingernails, she harvests vibrant green herbs beaming with pride.
Green molds into pink. Rosy cheeks when she smiles back at the stranger. She gives him a second look and stops him on the bustling street. Pink is what she strives to be. Blush spreading across her face as he makes a joke by the twinkling candlelight. “I love you,” he says amid a pink-purple sky. How can he love her? How can he love a sick girl? Once too weak to eat. Too defeated to stand. Too desolate to hope. After everything she has been through how does she deserve this ending? This life of joy and laughter? She imagines all the colors of her life and more importantly, how everything was almost black.
Yellow melts into blue. Stark-clean blue hospital gowns. Always uncomfortable. Blue when she sees her friends. Awkward. Too polite and reserved. Blue when the doctors sit her down with bad news. “Blue skies ahead,” they tell her, “only a few more treatments.” But the tears roll down her cheeks. Fat globs of heartbreak on her Get Well Soon cards until the words melt together. Even her hospital room has blue walls. She stares at them for days fading in and out of consciousness.
Months of blue until she loves green. When she wheels outside for the first time with arms almost too weak to push herself. All she can see is green. Surrounded by a verdant landscape. Fields of freshly-mowed grass, the scent still sharp in the air. Flowers grow along the garden. Bloom with promise. The azure sky above a canopy of bright maple leaves. Weeks pass. Teeter with a cane leading the way while inhaling the scent of fresh spring air ... check. Walk to the park alone ... check. Watch as a few seeds blossom into a thriving herb garden with her steadfast hands ... check. Rich soil crusting underneath her fingernails, she harvests vibrant green herbs beaming with pride.
Green molds into pink. Rosy cheeks when she smiles back at the stranger. She gives him a second look and stops him on the bustling street. Pink is what she strives to be. Blush spreading across her face as he makes a joke by the twinkling candlelight. “I love you,” he says amid a pink-purple sky. How can he love her? How can he love a sick girl? Once too weak to eat. Too defeated to stand. Too desolate to hope. After everything she has been through how does she deserve this ending? This life of joy and laughter? She imagines all the colors of her life and more importantly, how everything was almost black.
Alexindra Wheeler '19
Goodbye is a Sunset
I feel your presence
In the sun’s luminescence
Beautifully bright in sparkling splendor
A light in which darkness will always surrender.
Above the clouds we have soared and we flew
Dazzling diamonds in the brilliant blue
For the best years of my life
I can only thank you.
Under a sky of fire I stood
Tears falling as I knew they would
Like pearly raindrops from my stormcloud eyes
As the golden sun set and we said our goodbyes.
Flaming scarlet and dreamy purples glitter above
Then bleed apart
But I am warm with the memories that fill my heart.
With one final spark
Of your radiance in the dark
You descend below the clouds
And fade softly to night
Shining vividly crimson
Before you flicker out of sight.
The moon, lined in silver and true
Is lonely without you
But I know not to fear
For your light is still near.
I felt your presence
In the sun, shining through
And in a sky full of stars
I see you there, too.
All stories will end
With love and with time
But goodbye is a sunset
Shimmering and sublime.
I now know that farewell does not mean forever
And that “see you soon” is different than never
So I start my next chapter
And I let it begin
As the glorious sun rises up once again.
In the sun’s luminescence
Beautifully bright in sparkling splendor
A light in which darkness will always surrender.
Above the clouds we have soared and we flew
Dazzling diamonds in the brilliant blue
For the best years of my life
I can only thank you.
Under a sky of fire I stood
Tears falling as I knew they would
Like pearly raindrops from my stormcloud eyes
As the golden sun set and we said our goodbyes.
Flaming scarlet and dreamy purples glitter above
Then bleed apart
But I am warm with the memories that fill my heart.
With one final spark
Of your radiance in the dark
You descend below the clouds
And fade softly to night
Shining vividly crimson
Before you flicker out of sight.
The moon, lined in silver and true
Is lonely without you
But I know not to fear
For your light is still near.
I felt your presence
In the sun, shining through
And in a sky full of stars
I see you there, too.
All stories will end
With love and with time
But goodbye is a sunset
Shimmering and sublime.
I now know that farewell does not mean forever
And that “see you soon” is different than never
So I start my next chapter
And I let it begin
As the glorious sun rises up once again.
Grace Brenner '21
[Untitled]
Audrey Gentile '22
Jumbo's Nook
Catherine Adams '21
City Streets
Kelly Ward '19
Sunset Skyline
Maddie Rzepka '22
Will vs. Waves
Rivers running rapid
the angry tyrant rules
the pattern of the flow;
Relentless and reckless.
Submerged and struggling
to claw my way upward;
the tyrant holds me down,
latches onto my mind,
robbing me of myself.
Only a heavy heart
Remains to challenge him.
Fighting with his army,
my will versus the waves;
receding and flooding.
Before he claims the throne,
or gets crowned in the chaos,
or before I lose for good
I let go and float on
Nicole Kendall '19
the angry tyrant rules
the pattern of the flow;
Relentless and reckless.
Submerged and struggling
to claw my way upward;
the tyrant holds me down,
latches onto my mind,
robbing me of myself.
Only a heavy heart
Remains to challenge him.
Fighting with his army,
my will versus the waves;
receding and flooding.
Before he claims the throne,
or gets crowned in the chaos,
or before I lose for good
I let go and float on
Nicole Kendall '19
I'll be your gardener
I’ll be your gardener
Could I perhaps plant some daffodils in your mind?
I'll be sure to water them every single sunrise.
And soon enough the flowers will overpower all your fruitless doubt
All your insecurity, worry, self hatred and whatnot
Bees with kind words and kinder hands will pollinate
Butterflies, all your favorites, will sit on petals delicate
You'll have a garden, my darling, a garden in your head
One you can visit whenever you have dark clouds woven in your hair
Someday soon I’ll come back for a visit
And maybe even plant some peonies too
Casey Vieira '22
Could I perhaps plant some daffodils in your mind?
I'll be sure to water them every single sunrise.
And soon enough the flowers will overpower all your fruitless doubt
All your insecurity, worry, self hatred and whatnot
Bees with kind words and kinder hands will pollinate
Butterflies, all your favorites, will sit on petals delicate
You'll have a garden, my darling, a garden in your head
One you can visit whenever you have dark clouds woven in your hair
Someday soon I’ll come back for a visit
And maybe even plant some peonies too
Casey Vieira '22
Up, up and away
Grace Brenner '21
Glass Songbirds
Glass songbirds
burst free from my heart,
and I watch them cut the sky--
creatures catching the sun
on crystal wings.
They glitter and I bleed.
burst free from my heart,
and I watch them cut the sky--
creatures catching the sun
on crystal wings.
They glitter and I bleed.
Jessica Navin '19
The Lost Hat
Audrey Gentile '22
Blank Page
Pure and untouchable,
the elusive blank page
gleaming with mystery
stares at me mockingly,
yelling at me to write:
Create! Create! Create!
You need to have something;
like a peacock in heat,
display your tail feathers.
Forge a name for your fate.
Don’t appease the public
with your conformity.
But the blank page misses
the purpose of the pen;
the authenticity
of experiences
overrules the pressure
to produce poetry.
Nicole Kendall '19
the elusive blank page
gleaming with mystery
stares at me mockingly,
yelling at me to write:
Create! Create! Create!
You need to have something;
like a peacock in heat,
display your tail feathers.
Forge a name for your fate.
Don’t appease the public
with your conformity.
But the blank page misses
the purpose of the pen;
the authenticity
of experiences
overrules the pressure
to produce poetry.
Nicole Kendall '19
Rain Flying By
Riley Murphy '21
Red Bliss Upon the Horizon
Catherine Adams '21
Her Books
Jerry (September 10th - 6:30 A.M.)
Suddenly, out of darkness, there was light. Suddenly, out of silence, there was sound. The tepid morning sun, just beginning to show its naked self, provided a dim brownish light. The sound, of course, came from Jerry’s alarm clock - the shrill electronic buzz permeating their apartment. As Jerry looked over at his wife, Jody, lying next to him, it occurred to him that he should silence the alarm, lest Jody awaken to “such a racket,” as she had called it so many times before. Jerry considered himself a fortunate man. After fifteen years, he was still in love with the woman he had married. That being said, Jody could be difficult. For one thing, she didn’t like waking up to the piercing sound of an alarm clock. He pondered that fact as he arose from their bed and began his walk downstairs. Wasn’t that what alarm clocks were for? Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Jerry stumbled. Looking down at the floor where he had tripped, he realized that lying there was the culprit: a book, one of Jody’s books. Yes, for two, there were her books - so many books.
Jody (September 10th - 8:30 A.M.)
As she sat at the kitchen table, Jody thought back to that morning:
She had been awakened at 6:30 by the sound of Jerry’s alarm clock. As she laid there in bed, Jerry’s eyes on her, Jody realized that she couldn’t bring herself to argue over it again. Instead, she resigned herself to the relentless, high-pitched drone coming from his nightstand and smiled, her back to Jerry. He did this every morning and when he did, Jody could feel his stare. It made her melt with a feeling that she was all he wanted in the world.
Then, suddenly, she remembered hearing: “Damn it, Jody.” Jerry was muttering from the first floor landing. She remembered having left a book on the newel post the night before and quietly laughed at the thought of the way Jerry might’ve tripped - he always tried to make it look intentional by skipping. She wondered now if he did that when he was alone. Her thoughts closed in on sleep, once again, as she thought of Jerry and just how happy he made her...
Jody pondered what made her feel warmer: Jerry or the tea she sipped, sitting there, as it scalded her tongue and the back of her throat. Finally, she decided on Jerry.
Jerry (September 10th - 6:00 P.M.)
The book’s cover displeased him. And that’s why, as Jerry sat at his desk, doing nothing, the book remained unopened and stiff. It had been Jody’s favorite book for a very long time, he remembered, and she had recently gotten him a copy for his birthday. When she gave it to him, she had said that she wanted them to “share together in the splendor.” Even though the gift enraged him (there was something awfully self-absorbed about gifting someone with one of your favorite things, he thought), Jerry had graciously feigned appreciation at the time. After all, he had accepted long ago that his and Jody’s love was, at times, one of insurmountable paradox. He had been nothing but patient, putting up with her edicts and peculiarities for years on end, while still it felt as if she had no love to offer him. Not because she didn’t care for him. She did...or, perhaps he didn’t know. What he did know, however, with unwavering certainty, was that her face was always engrossed in whatever was newest on the New York Times Bestseller List. Their oxymoronic love was only nearly insurmountable, though - of course he knew why he had stayed with Jody all these years. In high school she had always been the quietly reserved kind, never forward or outspoken. And yet, despite what it seemed, she had always had all the right answers. But although that’s what initially drew him in, Jerry had fallen in love with Jody for reasons that transcended all of that. He had fallen in love with her not because of what her mind was, but rather because of what her mind was, beyond all of the knowledge. He fell in love with her “head-in-the-clouds” attitude and the fact that she genuinely didn’t care what answers she had...only that she believed in the ones she did and that she knew she was going places.
As Jerry’s mind came back to work, back to reality, he contemplated throwing the book out the window. He grabbed the book timidly as if he expected the pages to part by their own doing and swallow him whole. He nervously hurried over to the window out of which he could see the Manhattan skyline. He was about to toss the book up against the glass, almost expecting it to fly out into the open night air, when suddenly, a taxi below laid on its horn, bringing him back to the world and out of the trance that he had found himself enveloped in, if only for a fleeting moment. Thinking logically now, he quickly crossed to his desk and returned the book to where it had previously sat. After that, he paced slowly back to the window, defeated...thinking intently on how it might’ve felt to have been the book in his surreality: falling quickly and unequivocally into oblivion…
Yet another horn sounded from below making him jump - he was anxious, though he didn’t know quite why. It felt as if something was happening...or was about to. Briskly, he returned to his desk and powered on the computer once more, his mind scattered about the room. Work was challenging these days - the new century had only just begun, but things were already different. Things were already more difficult. He had just been promoted and, though he was grateful (mainly for the raise), such a shift meant a plethora of changes to his daily routine, among them: overtime. As he sat there, the computer screen stared back at him, his monitor glowing brightly. The time read 6:07 P.M. Outside, the dusky Manhattan skyline floated below the horizon as September 10th came to a unexpecting and fateful close. It was 2001.
***
September 11th - 8:46 A.M.
Suddenly, out of darkness, there was light. Suddenly out of silence, there was sound. As Jerry sat at his desk in the tall shadow of the North Tower, he thought he saw a plane fly by his office window. It couldn’t be, though. No plane flew that low in the middle of such a densely populated and urbanized area. But suddenly, there was fire and smoke and the sound of a thousand trains thundering into Grand Central Station. From what Jerry could tell, it had been a commercial jet colliding with the building that had caused the explosion. Jerry still wasn’t sure, though, whether or not he believed what his eyes were telling him. How could such a thing be? “Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath.
Emergency procedures were quickly put into place, just as they had been practiced so many times before in the South Tower. Jerry knew that the incident would be on the news within minutes and so he phoned home, told Jody that he was safe and that he would be out of there soon. For the first time in what felt like weeks, Jody seemed genuinely concerned about him and demanded that he get home unharmed. He said he would and then hung up the phone.
Feeling no immediate danger, and realizing the momentous nature of what he was witnessing, Jerry remained standing inside his office. He took it all in: the dull sharpness of sirens below and the quietly panicked conversations happening outside his door. He looked out upon the destruction that was so close he could almost reach out and touch it. And then, suddenly, in the distance, Jerry heard the whir of an engine, a jet engine. It couldn’t be, though - the first plane had been incinerated upon impact. And besides, the first collision had been an accident, an unbelievably tragic accident, but an accident nonetheless. There were no more planes, the destruction was over. With each passing second, though, Jerry realized that he really was hearing something and that it was quickly becoming louder and louder until the noise was almost deafening. Suddenly, there was so much light and sound around him that Jerry’s world went white for a moment. He cried out what he thought was “Fuck,” but couldn’t hear himself utter a sound and certainly heard no reply. It felt as if his very existence was crumbling around him. A second plane had hit and it had hit his tower. He was sure.
Opening his eyes, Jerry was terrified to find the world around him in ruins. His office door was in flames. “Shit,” he thought. That had been the only way out. As he continued to look around the room Jerry realized that his head was pounding hard...and then, suddenly, that the office window had been broken open...wide. He spun around to find the book that Jody had given him. Still having had no interest in reading it, he had left it at work the night before. But now she would want to see that it was in good condition when he returned home. And that’s when the fire behind him erupted. It was not a very large office and so the flames singed at his back - he yelped. Pieces of the ceiling began to fall and, as they did, Jerry had to dodge each piece of plaster as it rained down upon him faster and faster. It was then that he realized he would not escape the tower with his life.
He had no time to call Jody again, no time to tell her that he wasn’t coming home...the heat from the flames was already becoming unbearable and the thick, black smoke was starting to invade his lungs. He quickly grabbed a pen from his desk and opened the front cover of Jody’s favorite book for the first time. He scribbled something. Then, he went to the window, arms crossed over the book. This was it he thought - he gave one more thought to Jody and then stepped out into the hazy morning air. For a moment, he hung there. And yet the world continued to turn, seconds passed by, red and blue. And then he too fell into oblivion, quickly and unequivocally. He too fell without question.
Jody (September 15th. - 12:00 P.M.)
Jerry’s boss, Thomas, who had made it out alive that fateful morning was rushing towards her. “Jody…,” he said, “I’m so sorry. Jerry was a remarkable man.” Tom seemed unsure of what to say, the shadow of human birds sang a requiem that tormented him as he remembered his own decision to run.
“Yes,” Jody said under her breath, in brief reply, “He was.” Suddenly, without warning, Thomas reached out his hand - in it, there was a book. Jody immediately began to cry, dry tears fell from her eyes. She was still in mourning, but after four days, her tear ducts were simply exhausted. Looking down, she confirmed that what Tom held in his hands was indeed the same book she had given Jerry for his forty-second birthday. What else would it have been? In their fifteen years of marriage, Jody had never once seen him pick up another.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. My god…” Jody sobbed, embracing Thomas harder than she had anyone else in her whole life. Tom stroked her hair, embraced her as tightly as she had him, and then let go. Before walking away in the other direction, though, he flashed her a half-smile that seemed to say “stay strong.” She wasn’t sure how she could. But as he faded out of sight, Jody opened the book. On the inside cover Jerry had written a note:
“Jody, I’m not going to be able to make it home now...or ever...I’m sorry. But before I leave, I want you to know that every morning after I wake up and turn off my alarm clock…”
As she read, Jody realized that Jerry’s pen had begun to dig into the cover on “and turn off my alarm clock.” Jody half laughed and half cried at this. Of course she regretted yelling at Jerry to turn off his alarm clock now - but she reminded herself that all things were clearer in hindsight - that’s what Jerry always said...or had always said. Jody realized that that was reality now. She continued:
“...every morning after I wake up and turn off my alarm clock, I look over at you and realize just how exponentially my love grows for you every day. Thank you for keeping your head in the clouds all these years and for allowing me to fly.
- Jerry”
Suddenly out of silence there was sound: Jody held the book tightly to her chest, the sobbing now uncontrollable. But suddenly out of her darkness, there was a small pin drop of light.
Suddenly, out of darkness, there was light. Suddenly, out of silence, there was sound. The tepid morning sun, just beginning to show its naked self, provided a dim brownish light. The sound, of course, came from Jerry’s alarm clock - the shrill electronic buzz permeating their apartment. As Jerry looked over at his wife, Jody, lying next to him, it occurred to him that he should silence the alarm, lest Jody awaken to “such a racket,” as she had called it so many times before. Jerry considered himself a fortunate man. After fifteen years, he was still in love with the woman he had married. That being said, Jody could be difficult. For one thing, she didn’t like waking up to the piercing sound of an alarm clock. He pondered that fact as he arose from their bed and began his walk downstairs. Wasn’t that what alarm clocks were for? Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Jerry stumbled. Looking down at the floor where he had tripped, he realized that lying there was the culprit: a book, one of Jody’s books. Yes, for two, there were her books - so many books.
Jody (September 10th - 8:30 A.M.)
As she sat at the kitchen table, Jody thought back to that morning:
She had been awakened at 6:30 by the sound of Jerry’s alarm clock. As she laid there in bed, Jerry’s eyes on her, Jody realized that she couldn’t bring herself to argue over it again. Instead, she resigned herself to the relentless, high-pitched drone coming from his nightstand and smiled, her back to Jerry. He did this every morning and when he did, Jody could feel his stare. It made her melt with a feeling that she was all he wanted in the world.
Then, suddenly, she remembered hearing: “Damn it, Jody.” Jerry was muttering from the first floor landing. She remembered having left a book on the newel post the night before and quietly laughed at the thought of the way Jerry might’ve tripped - he always tried to make it look intentional by skipping. She wondered now if he did that when he was alone. Her thoughts closed in on sleep, once again, as she thought of Jerry and just how happy he made her...
Jody pondered what made her feel warmer: Jerry or the tea she sipped, sitting there, as it scalded her tongue and the back of her throat. Finally, she decided on Jerry.
Jerry (September 10th - 6:00 P.M.)
The book’s cover displeased him. And that’s why, as Jerry sat at his desk, doing nothing, the book remained unopened and stiff. It had been Jody’s favorite book for a very long time, he remembered, and she had recently gotten him a copy for his birthday. When she gave it to him, she had said that she wanted them to “share together in the splendor.” Even though the gift enraged him (there was something awfully self-absorbed about gifting someone with one of your favorite things, he thought), Jerry had graciously feigned appreciation at the time. After all, he had accepted long ago that his and Jody’s love was, at times, one of insurmountable paradox. He had been nothing but patient, putting up with her edicts and peculiarities for years on end, while still it felt as if she had no love to offer him. Not because she didn’t care for him. She did...or, perhaps he didn’t know. What he did know, however, with unwavering certainty, was that her face was always engrossed in whatever was newest on the New York Times Bestseller List. Their oxymoronic love was only nearly insurmountable, though - of course he knew why he had stayed with Jody all these years. In high school she had always been the quietly reserved kind, never forward or outspoken. And yet, despite what it seemed, she had always had all the right answers. But although that’s what initially drew him in, Jerry had fallen in love with Jody for reasons that transcended all of that. He had fallen in love with her not because of what her mind was, but rather because of what her mind was, beyond all of the knowledge. He fell in love with her “head-in-the-clouds” attitude and the fact that she genuinely didn’t care what answers she had...only that she believed in the ones she did and that she knew she was going places.
As Jerry’s mind came back to work, back to reality, he contemplated throwing the book out the window. He grabbed the book timidly as if he expected the pages to part by their own doing and swallow him whole. He nervously hurried over to the window out of which he could see the Manhattan skyline. He was about to toss the book up against the glass, almost expecting it to fly out into the open night air, when suddenly, a taxi below laid on its horn, bringing him back to the world and out of the trance that he had found himself enveloped in, if only for a fleeting moment. Thinking logically now, he quickly crossed to his desk and returned the book to where it had previously sat. After that, he paced slowly back to the window, defeated...thinking intently on how it might’ve felt to have been the book in his surreality: falling quickly and unequivocally into oblivion…
Yet another horn sounded from below making him jump - he was anxious, though he didn’t know quite why. It felt as if something was happening...or was about to. Briskly, he returned to his desk and powered on the computer once more, his mind scattered about the room. Work was challenging these days - the new century had only just begun, but things were already different. Things were already more difficult. He had just been promoted and, though he was grateful (mainly for the raise), such a shift meant a plethora of changes to his daily routine, among them: overtime. As he sat there, the computer screen stared back at him, his monitor glowing brightly. The time read 6:07 P.M. Outside, the dusky Manhattan skyline floated below the horizon as September 10th came to a unexpecting and fateful close. It was 2001.
***
September 11th - 8:46 A.M.
Suddenly, out of darkness, there was light. Suddenly out of silence, there was sound. As Jerry sat at his desk in the tall shadow of the North Tower, he thought he saw a plane fly by his office window. It couldn’t be, though. No plane flew that low in the middle of such a densely populated and urbanized area. But suddenly, there was fire and smoke and the sound of a thousand trains thundering into Grand Central Station. From what Jerry could tell, it had been a commercial jet colliding with the building that had caused the explosion. Jerry still wasn’t sure, though, whether or not he believed what his eyes were telling him. How could such a thing be? “Holy shit,” he muttered under his breath.
Emergency procedures were quickly put into place, just as they had been practiced so many times before in the South Tower. Jerry knew that the incident would be on the news within minutes and so he phoned home, told Jody that he was safe and that he would be out of there soon. For the first time in what felt like weeks, Jody seemed genuinely concerned about him and demanded that he get home unharmed. He said he would and then hung up the phone.
Feeling no immediate danger, and realizing the momentous nature of what he was witnessing, Jerry remained standing inside his office. He took it all in: the dull sharpness of sirens below and the quietly panicked conversations happening outside his door. He looked out upon the destruction that was so close he could almost reach out and touch it. And then, suddenly, in the distance, Jerry heard the whir of an engine, a jet engine. It couldn’t be, though - the first plane had been incinerated upon impact. And besides, the first collision had been an accident, an unbelievably tragic accident, but an accident nonetheless. There were no more planes, the destruction was over. With each passing second, though, Jerry realized that he really was hearing something and that it was quickly becoming louder and louder until the noise was almost deafening. Suddenly, there was so much light and sound around him that Jerry’s world went white for a moment. He cried out what he thought was “Fuck,” but couldn’t hear himself utter a sound and certainly heard no reply. It felt as if his very existence was crumbling around him. A second plane had hit and it had hit his tower. He was sure.
Opening his eyes, Jerry was terrified to find the world around him in ruins. His office door was in flames. “Shit,” he thought. That had been the only way out. As he continued to look around the room Jerry realized that his head was pounding hard...and then, suddenly, that the office window had been broken open...wide. He spun around to find the book that Jody had given him. Still having had no interest in reading it, he had left it at work the night before. But now she would want to see that it was in good condition when he returned home. And that’s when the fire behind him erupted. It was not a very large office and so the flames singed at his back - he yelped. Pieces of the ceiling began to fall and, as they did, Jerry had to dodge each piece of plaster as it rained down upon him faster and faster. It was then that he realized he would not escape the tower with his life.
He had no time to call Jody again, no time to tell her that he wasn’t coming home...the heat from the flames was already becoming unbearable and the thick, black smoke was starting to invade his lungs. He quickly grabbed a pen from his desk and opened the front cover of Jody’s favorite book for the first time. He scribbled something. Then, he went to the window, arms crossed over the book. This was it he thought - he gave one more thought to Jody and then stepped out into the hazy morning air. For a moment, he hung there. And yet the world continued to turn, seconds passed by, red and blue. And then he too fell into oblivion, quickly and unequivocally. He too fell without question.
Jody (September 15th. - 12:00 P.M.)
Jerry’s boss, Thomas, who had made it out alive that fateful morning was rushing towards her. “Jody…,” he said, “I’m so sorry. Jerry was a remarkable man.” Tom seemed unsure of what to say, the shadow of human birds sang a requiem that tormented him as he remembered his own decision to run.
“Yes,” Jody said under her breath, in brief reply, “He was.” Suddenly, without warning, Thomas reached out his hand - in it, there was a book. Jody immediately began to cry, dry tears fell from her eyes. She was still in mourning, but after four days, her tear ducts were simply exhausted. Looking down, she confirmed that what Tom held in his hands was indeed the same book she had given Jerry for his forty-second birthday. What else would it have been? In their fifteen years of marriage, Jody had never once seen him pick up another.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. My god…” Jody sobbed, embracing Thomas harder than she had anyone else in her whole life. Tom stroked her hair, embraced her as tightly as she had him, and then let go. Before walking away in the other direction, though, he flashed her a half-smile that seemed to say “stay strong.” She wasn’t sure how she could. But as he faded out of sight, Jody opened the book. On the inside cover Jerry had written a note:
“Jody, I’m not going to be able to make it home now...or ever...I’m sorry. But before I leave, I want you to know that every morning after I wake up and turn off my alarm clock…”
As she read, Jody realized that Jerry’s pen had begun to dig into the cover on “and turn off my alarm clock.” Jody half laughed and half cried at this. Of course she regretted yelling at Jerry to turn off his alarm clock now - but she reminded herself that all things were clearer in hindsight - that’s what Jerry always said...or had always said. Jody realized that that was reality now. She continued:
“...every morning after I wake up and turn off my alarm clock, I look over at you and realize just how exponentially my love grows for you every day. Thank you for keeping your head in the clouds all these years and for allowing me to fly.
- Jerry”
Suddenly out of silence there was sound: Jody held the book tightly to her chest, the sobbing now uncontrollable. But suddenly out of her darkness, there was a small pin drop of light.
Aymon Langlois '19
Oh, the Places You'll Go
Grace Brenner '21
La Ville de L'amour
Grace Brenner '21
Look Like the Innocent Flower
Autumn Glory
Grace Brenner '21
From Under the Brush
Audrey Gentile '22
For the Love of a Doggo
Your soft brown eyes,
As warm as sunrise
Will melt any heart,
Tearing evil apart.
Loyal, patient, loving, and kind
The greatest companion a human can find.
Your pom pom-like tail and cute little paws
An escape from society and politics and laws.
Your knowledge of love and ever-pure soul
As deep as the galaxy’s deepest black hole
Brings great peace and joy to a life so full,
Without you the world is endlessly dull.
You love and protect both the deaf and the blind,
So very superior to all of mankind.
Your small joyous bark
Is a light in the dark
And your floppy brown ears
Will listen for years.
You are a piece of my heart that will not be erased,
For the love of a doggo cannot be replaced.
Grace Brenner '21
As warm as sunrise
Will melt any heart,
Tearing evil apart.
Loyal, patient, loving, and kind
The greatest companion a human can find.
Your pom pom-like tail and cute little paws
An escape from society and politics and laws.
Your knowledge of love and ever-pure soul
As deep as the galaxy’s deepest black hole
Brings great peace and joy to a life so full,
Without you the world is endlessly dull.
You love and protect both the deaf and the blind,
So very superior to all of mankind.
Your small joyous bark
Is a light in the dark
And your floppy brown ears
Will listen for years.
You are a piece of my heart that will not be erased,
For the love of a doggo cannot be replaced.
Grace Brenner '21