By Ethan Stoddard
The door of memory unlocks,
A swirling wind of thoughts and reminiscent dreams,
sweeps in on the underdraft,
Representative of a lifetime
Of a full life,
Of a life well lived,
Then,
As though conceived from a distant thought
A warm glow,
A familiar greeting,
One known well to me,
An old friend,
Smiling again,
Yet,
A soft breeze,
A stranger,
Not unknown,
Just long forgotten
The time has come at last
And then I see,
A new age,
Penultimate magnificence,
An image of blinding beauty,
The art of the Creator emerges,
Devoid of blemish,
Staining his masterpiece
With colorful vision
Leaves fall from trees as castaways
Particles dance on beams of joy,
Oblique rays and shortened days,
While nature dies all are amazed,
Children play in leaves of wonder,
While many feast until no more,
Though nothing seems to be asunder,
Until the leaves touch the floor,
What once was gold,
Is now bronze,
What once was mighty,
Is now weak,
What once was loudest praise,
Is now a just a whisper,
Another end,
no beginning in sight,
No other friend,
To make it alright,
The time has come at last,
As I return to the door once again,
The trees have all shed,
Although I struggle to fathom,
I see a small light ahead
By Jayla McNeill
I am a Ragdoll
I sit on the floor
With yarn weaved between my fabric skin
To form a wide smile
My big button eyes stare dead into the ceiling
It may be eerie
But it is how I have always been
My ebony hair is made of abstract yarn
That lines my scalp and frames my button eyes
I sit on the floor because they don't need me
I was created to be used
For the enjoyment of others
That lasted a while
With new fresh faces
But that's over now
A shift so sudden
Im struck sitting still
What did I do?
Before I realized
I went from
“Favorite”
To
“Forgotten”
What did I do?
I'm still the same old rag doll
Even tho I’ve got loose strings
And I've lost my saturation
It's still me
Is it my big button eyes?
Are they off putting?
Is it my wide smile?
Is it too unrealistic?
Or maybe its my harsh hair
It has lost its curl
For I am a ragdoll
Your love for me
Was only temporary
By Noelle Warren
Heads.
I see your underhanded violence
I smell your uncaring, troublesome mischief
I taste your malevolent, scheming deeds of sin
I feel your proud looking eyes and your constant fighting
I hear your running feet that go to tell of evil and lies
Heads.
Tails.
I see your deep roots of strong faithfulness
I smell your constant wonder and gentle love
I taste your endless joy and selfless self-control
I feel your quiet, long-suffering patience for us
I hear your goodness and kindness speaking abiding peace
Tails.
Heads and tails.
By Lauren Tyler
Before I was born,
She made the walls around me.
When I was cradled in darkness,
She was the voice speaking light,
And when I came into this earth,
It was a life-bond at first sight.
Thus is the love of a mother.
When I was a rebellious toddler,
She made my birthday cakes from scratch.
She labored to make my bows and dresses,
Hecho por mano - made by hand.
She carried my backpack on the first day of school,
And got down on her knees to say goodbye.
Thus is the love of a mother.
I grew into a sullen teenager, and she loved me still;
Met passionate rages with a listening ear,
Met bleeding tears with her embrace,
And through my worst betrayal, she stayed.
I turned my back on the faith,
But she fought to bring me home.
Thus is the love of a mother.
Now we wait for the great parting:
The cleavage of two lives from one,
The day I become a guest in my own home.
Yet with a bittersweet end, I smile -
She will always walk beside me,
And fight my battles ‘till the end of time.
Thus is the love of a mother.
Each time I peer at my soul, I see her grow.
I see her seep from kind words,
Feel her heart beat when I serve my neighbor.
I dread the day I become a shadow,
And no longer finish her sentences,
But I will always cherish that blessed word: “mother.”
Thus is the joy of a daughter.
By Elizabeth Humphries
Is there a journey before me?
I suddenly wake up
Where am I?
It’s so dark
I walk;
And I see a tunnel,
I look down.
Then, just like that
I brace myself
My breath
It stands next to me,
One,
Two,
Three
My eyes blink and blink and blink
Like never before:
It’s here I stumble;
Never have I been faced with this
A place bathed with Light
Here I am
By Elizabeth Humphries
To till the soil and plant the seed,
To watch the sprouts of new life with heed,
To nurture and to tend with care,
This new garden is beyond compare.
To pluck the weeds that crowd the ground,
To water and feed the plants all around
To watch the blooms unfold with pride,
To mourn for those plant that slowly died
To reap the harvest, with precision and care
To savor the plants that are truly rare
So let us to the garden go,
And tend the plants that freely grow,
It's time to see what God will do
To this beautiful garden now not so new
By Ms. Ginese
A shell
Marks the road –
The way in which
the pilgrim should walk.
And walk I did.
Walked right out of my shell
– Of motherhood
– Of wife
– Of teacher.
And found that my
True self,
The thing living and breathing inside of that shell,
Was more
Than
– Chef
– Lover
– Or breadwinner
It’s true that the
Shell afforded me
More than
I could
Imagine – can one afford the dimples of a toddler?
But it was still a weight
To carry around.
So, every once in a while,
laden with anticipation,
I seek
the shell that
marks the road –
The way in which
the pilgrim should walk.
And I walk right out of my shell.
