BAA's Literary & Arts Magazine: March/April 2024

THE CARDINAL

Helloreaders,

A note from the

EDITORS

We are honoured to share with you The Cardinal’s second edition of the year. This issue has been inspired by the bloom of spring, which is especially breathtaking with the flourish of the ravine next to Bishop AllenAcademy.

Thankyoutoourteachermoderator,Ms.Conroy,forassistinguswiththe issueandtheclub.Aswell,thankyoutoMs.Smolders,Ms.Brennan,Mr. Jamieson,andtheirtalentedartstudentsforenrichingTheCardinalwith theirincredibleartwork.

Ourfinalthanksgoesouttoallourclubmembersandthecontributorsto themagazine.Itissuchanhonourtobepartofacommunityoftalented creatives. Your beautiful poems, short stories, and personal works truly conveytheheartandsoulthatispouredintoliteratureandart.

TABLE OF CON

Short Stories

4--AttentionDeficitHyperactivityDisorderbyLaylaCaplice 9-14--RunningLatebyGraceStidham Poetry

1--SpringBlessingsbyLaurenMancini

2--SparkbyZephyr

5-6--DefinitionPoemsbySarahMartino

8--Love’sEclipsebyAngelinaFarag

15--TheFirstSecondsofSpringbyPietroMelo 17--Post-traumaticAmblebyAishaDaniel 19-20--EclipsebyKC

21--God’sFavouriteSnackbyAnonymous 23--StarsAlignbyIllumia

24--ThirtyPiecesofSilverbyAnonymous Art CoverArtbyJaydenBae

3--TotemPoleStudybyKatieChen 7--StillLife-AccessoriesbyMeiyiWu 16--TheLadybyZlataSalamay

18--TurtleIslandbyScarlettDu

22--MorningMemoriesbyKatieKim

Enjoy the new start the vibrant colours the fresh smells the breezy sunsets

Spring Blessings

by Lauren Mancini

Hear the sounds of a new life chirping, buzzing, and singing At the window awaits the giddiness of Easter and the many blessings of spring.

Spark byZephyr

Iattempttostartafire,solcanletinsomelight

Butthewindsareruthlessandtheraincontinuestopour

Someguide,someone,totellmewhatIam

Thenightseemstolastforeverandmyarmsaregettingsore

AsparklightstheendlessnightandIgetaglimpse ofthelandscape,thefields,ofwhoI'msupposedtobe

Icontinuetolistentomygrindingofsticksandstones

OnedayIwillbethefields,theflowers,thelightwillsetme free

Iwon'tbeonmykneesgrindingawayanymore

Iwillforgetwhatit'sliketolistentothegrindingofstones andsticks

Untilthen,Iholdontothesparks,andprayIwon'thaveto grindmuchlonger

UntilthenIhopeIwilllastthroughthisworld'scrueltricks

Grind Grind Grind

Totem Pole Study

by Katie Chen

Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder by Layla Caplice

As I glide through the aisle aimlessly following my mother, something catches my eye and I pause. To my left I see shelves 20-feet-tall filled, to the brim with toys, knicks and knacks. I’m in heaven. My mom and sister are not. I had no idea they had continued walking and I kept wandering, letting my eyes drift from shelf to shelf. Touching every fluffy toy I see, racing every car against each other and holding up every shirt over my torso to see if it would fit. My eyes catch one that I must have. Not a want, but a need. I hold it up and it’s a perfect fit. It’s like it was made for me! I was so excited so I turned to ask my mom…

Wait, where did she go? Sophie? How did I lose them? My energy shifts from excitement to panic as I dash through the aisles without stopping to look at cars, shoes or shirts. When did this Target get so big? How come every turn is a dead end?

I make it to the winter section, clutching the shirt in my hands. I’m about to lay on the floor and cry when I hear my mom ’ s voice bellow behind me.

“LAYLA! GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!”

My face turns bright red. I can no longer control my tears. She grabs my wrist with more force than a clamp. There is no chance I am getting the shirt.

Girl·hood

Definition Poems

/ˈ ɡərl ˌ(h)ood/ noun

The time in a female’s life before adulthood / Sharing makeup in your best friend’s bedroom / Doing your hair with too much hairspray / Making outfits you’ll never wear / Meeting a boy and telling him you love him, though you don’t yet know what love is / Putting on eyeliner and wiping it away before mom sees / Dancing alone in your room to your favourite record / Changing your outfit because you “look too adult” / Scrapes on your knees beneath a tight dress

Kind·ness

/ˈkīn(d)nəs/ noun

1. A gentle summer breeze that cools you from the sun’s warmth. In your direction, ease it brings forth. It gives you comfort and lets you know it’s always there when you’re feeling low.

2. A soft tissue that dries your tears on a day when you thought consolation was not near. Giving you peace of mind; feeding your spirit with the strength to persevere.

3. A million little hugs. They fill you with warmth. From my son, my daughter, my friend, m l

By Sara Martino

Fool·ish·ness

/ˈfooliSHnəs/ noun

1. A pencil that writes a confession of love / it’s graphite scraping the paper / giving you goosebumps on your arms / And the grey lines form words / that you can’t take back / And the white paper becomes creased / as you fold it up / Your name signed on the back / deep fear fills your chest / but it’s too late now.

Sor·row

/ˈsôrō,ˈsärō/ noun

The hand that slowly pushes my head underwater, forcing me to scream; torture. The air bubbles escape from my lungs like birds escaping the barren winter, and it sinks me. I fall weakly into the endless abyss, losing my self and mind. I give life a goodbye kiss. They ask why I’m like this, what’s happened to make me fall victim to the shackles of despair? But I can’t answer.

Still Life-Accessories

by Meiyi Wu

Love’s Eclipse

by Angelina Farag

Beneath the shimmering stars, Glowing like our scars. Sat on the swings, unmoving, In quiet, nature soothing. We were immersed in our sorrow. Together, longing for tomorrow. Though not within each other’s grasp, Our inaugural heartbreak, a shared clasp. In love’s bittersweet ending, Flurries of emotions seem unrelenting. Yet with each day that follows, I promise we’ll both feel a little less hollow.

Running Late

by Grace Stidham

Once again, it was raining and Eliza was running late. This was not unusual; she had a tendency for tardiness. Her mom said she got it from her dad, her dad said she got it from her mom. But no matter the origin, it seemed to plague her. And so, due to this ever persistent affliction, Eliza was sitting on an old blue subway seat, sixteen minutes late to school, when she heard the conductor’s voice over the indie music playing in her headphones:

Due to extreme weather conditions, the power has gone out and the train is unable to continue. Apologies for the inconvenience.

Eliza did not blink at this announcement of a delay. After all, delays happened all the time, and it was not her fault, nor anyone else’s. The only one to blame would be some godly figure who could control the weather, and she did not believe in god anyway. But people around her seemed to be awfully upset. She watched as the woman across from her cursed at the announcement, proclaiming that this damn train is always delayed and she would sooner walk a thousand miles than ever rely on it again. Eliza saw the old man across from her anxiously check his watch over, and over, and over again. She wondered where he was going in such a rush. Perhaps he was visiting his sick wife. Or perhaps he just hated being late.

Eliza studied everyone around her, entertaining herself by imagining what their names could be, what their lives were like, where they might be going. She created little worlds inside her vast mind, telling herself that the boy sitting across from her, whom she referred to as Franz, was the lost Prince of Denmark, driven into exile by his tyrannical father. She named the young blonde woman Vanessa, imagining that she was an infamous thief who had stolen the “Mona Lisa,” hidden it in her old blue cottage, and was never caught, because no one would expect such a sweet face to be so secretly sinister. Eliza kept daydreaming until she was interrupted by the uniquely unsettling feeling of being watched. Returning to the reality of the stagnant subway, Eliza made awkward eye contact with the young man who had been studying her.

He quickly averted his gaze and became suddenly enthralled with the museum advertisement, pasted across from his seat. After a second, the discomfort brewing within this silent interaction became too much. Eliza did not mind being late, but she hated awkward moments. And so, in an effort to rectify the unease lingering in the air, she said hello.

Her delicate voice broke through the cacophony of groans that could be heard from everyone else, who did mind being late. The young man seemed flustered at her greeting. The little pale space between his freckles first turned pink, and, as Eliza continued to wait for a response, eventually blossomed into crimson.

As he replied with a timid hello, the crimson turned to rosy red which, in turn, shifted to light pink, which finally left him with merely a nearly unnoticeable blush. He introduced himself as Ollie, short for Oliver. He rambled for a bit, explaining that although most people call him by his nickname, Oliver was fine as well, only it reminded him a little of his dead mother, since she was the only one who ever called him by his full name. So, it made him sad, but not too sad, so being called Oliver was okay.

As he paused, Eliza let out a short giggle. Ollie seemed taken aback, and a small shadow of sadness flickered across his pale face. Eliza quickly apologized and began to explain that she was only giggling because she too goes by a nickname. She shared how her grandmother named her Elizabeth, after the saint, but since she doesn’t really know if saints are even real, she goes by Eliza, just to be safe.

Eliza and Ollie shared a small chuckle. As the delay continued, so too did their conversation. After many minutes of small talk that felt like mere seconds, Eliza began to speak about how she was constantly late, and despite her efforts, could not seem to rid herself of this fault. As she spoke, Ollie’s chapped lips formed a sad smile.

The crackling of the announcement system interrupted their conversation:

The power has been restored. Apologies for the delay.

Ollie shared that he was on his way to therapy, not because he needed therapy or anything, but because his oldest sister was making him, and he always did what his sister said. After all, she chose to go to therapy, which probably meant that she was fragile, so he shouldn’t do anything that might shatter her. Their mother’s death already cracked her, he explained, and he didn’t want her to do anything stupid.

Next stop, Reid Station.

Ollie stared at his old red Converse as he continued, saying that he too had been plagued by tardiness. It never caused any problems, until last fall. He was late, only by a few minutes, to visit his mom in the hospital, and he missed her.

Next stop, Perth Station.

Eliza couldn’t see his eyes, since he seemed to be awfully focused on his frayed shoes, but she heard the cracks in his voice and knew to stay quiet, despite the awkwardness of the moment.

After a few minutes that felt like hours, Ollie continued explaining that his mom had been sick for ages and it really shouldn’t have been a surprise, and yet he was surprised when it did happen.

Next stop, Goldberg Station.

His mom was late too, that’s where he got it from. And yet, she wasn’t always late, he solemnly said. After all, if she was always late, how could she have left so early? How could someone who was always late depart twenty, thirty, even forty years early?

Next stop, Moller Station.

This was Eliza’s stop, yet she felt compelled to stay. The subway doors opened, the unsettlingly beautiful smell of dead leaves wafted in, and Eliza remained glued to that blue seat. The doors closed.

Ollie explained that although his therapist was really just an undereducated woman who was being paid far more than she should, she did teach him one good lesson.

Next stop, Hanc Station.

His therapist told him that despite how his mother was always late, there were some things that she simply could not be late for. Because not everything was up to her. And so, there is really no point in worrying about being late because, he explained with a small chuckle, one day there will be nothing left to be late for.

Next stop, Ripley Station.

And with that, Ollie smiled, waved, and walked off the train.

And as for Elizabeth, well, she rode to the train's last stop, in utter shock over what she had just been told, what she had just been taught. When she finally walked into school, a remarkable two hours and thirty-four minutes late, she was glad she had an unshakeable, God-given tendency for lateness.

The First Seconds of Spring

by Pietra Melo

The first seconds of spring

Spread beautifully and endlessly. From the cold early weeks of April, Of brisk wind, thick coats, and rainy afternoons, To the warm days of early May, Of warmer sunshine, greener grass, and clearer skies.

As the days become longer, the bu to bloom into flowers of every col

The bright sun comes closer to our earth, beaming down on us as it turns cloudy mornings into sunny afternoons. The grass becomes a new shade of green, and the leafless tree branches begin to bud The tone of the sky is a renewed b ripples of the lake. You begin to awaken each mornin birds, reminding yourself of life re

Animals begin to return from thei faraway retreats, to the familiar sc There is no more snow, no more c only the warmth of the sun and fr nature. All of this happens, before your ey of spring.

TheLady byZlataSalamay

Allowthesilencetoeaseyoursuffering.

Letthemoonlightshinesoul-consumingdeliriumontoyourworld.

Collapseintothewarmembraceofthetreesuntilyourrootsand

Thepondswilloffersolacetoyourgrievingtears.

Allowthesilencetoeaseyoursuffering.

Thecloudswon'thushyou,butsootheyouasnature'snewborn.

Thesunwillrise,illuminatingyourchestnutcolouredeyes.

Theleaveswillrustle,carryingonthewind'sgentlewhisper.

Allowthesilencetoeaseyoursuffering. theirsbecomeintertwined.

Turtle Island

by Scarlett Du

Eclipse by KC

I hide behind the shadows, never really knowing why

I hide behind the shadows, always hiding behind this or that lie

I hide behind the shadows, refusing to turn back

I hide behind the shadows, noticing all the skills I seem to lack

I hide behind the shadows, never really knowing the truth

I hide behind the shadows, always wasting my youth

I hide behind the shadows, always wasting my time

I hide behind the shadows, always crossing that line

I hide behind shadows, never daring to face the sun

I hide behind the shadows, knowing my time is almost done

I hide behind the shadows, always doing things I will regret

I hide behind the shadows, loving someone I have never met

I hide behind the shadows, looking for a place to run

I hide behind the shadows, always running away, but always coming back to where I had begun

I hide behind the shadows, knowing I will never be free

I hide behind the shadows, knowing that you’re losing me

God’s Favourite Snack

by Anonymous

I am zen and I am grateful for m

For instance, the bird g while flying are very amusing.

Gratitude comes in many shapes and sizes like love, compassion, and all the fun surprises.

Sports are played, crafts are made, I love all the blossoms, beautiful blades.

Grateful people shine

Many others whine

Live, love, and act tough

Everyone has importance they must awaken, Only then they find their purpose.

First check the ingredients through to the end, then add kindness and empathy to the blend.

Put the tray inside the oven of love, then wait outside, free as a dove.

Stay at the table, very steady, for God's favourite snack is ready.

MorningMemories byKatieKim

StarsAlign

Whenthestarsalign,justyouandI, gazebeneaththedistants��asweattempttograspthestars, whichseemtoneverdullastheysoaracrossthepitch-blacks��.

Asgleamingstarslightupournight, theever-so-brightfireflieslightupourpath.

Asighttobehold,asighttoawe, aswefollowthestarsthatseemtoalignwithinthedistance.

Thenever-endingbrightlightsneverceaseaswewalksidebyside, toaplacewebelong,toaplaceforonlyustobehold.

Whenthestarsalign,justyouandI, Willyoualignwithmetonight?

ThirtyPiecesofSilver

byAnonymous

Thirtypiecesofsilver,whatagreatdeal. ThemanJudas,whopraisedandloved, whofollowedandworshiped, hasnowbeentradedformaterialwealth.

Hehadseenhimasasaviour,butwhatcanmoneybuy? Theflavoroftangerinesinsteadofbeanssurely, butthemessiahisonethatcannotbereplaced.

Asthepriestssentsoldiersinpreparation, Judashadsoldhissoulindesperation. Thenfromthedepthsofhell, Satancreepedthroughtheshadows, crawlingtowardstheex-disciple, hewhisperedinthegreatsinner'sear, “Goodwork,havenothingtofear”.