The Calliope, Volume 11 by Geneva Quarterly

the calliope

may your choices reflect your hopes and not your fears geneva s c hool of boer ne t went y t went y-one volume eleven

editor’s note Freedom. When I hear this word, my mind goes straight to the carefree nature of a child. I remember being a little girl and not caring what anyone had to say, I loved myself and others. I carried around a big heart that was filled with curiosity about the world. As I grew older, I noticed I began to lose that childlike mindset. I began to listen to what others said or thought. My hopes and dreams were put to death by fear. With this mindset, I had created these invisible chains, my own imprisonment which many of us do. It’s easy to make yourself a prisoner to those around you or even those you don’t know. We are constantly surrounded by the uneasiness of changes and the unknown. It’s hard not to focus on what is out of our control. It’s a constant battle we face— whether or not to let fear creep in. The more we give in to our fears, the chains begin to tighten, and we lose sense of our hope. I recall the thought rendered through my head, “How do I escape?” Well, the answer is much simpler than you might think. You embrace your freedom

through hope. As Christians, we are free because Jesus paid the ultimate price so we could be saved. We aren’t called to live in fear but in the hope of the Lord’s return which is far more comforting than what the world will tell you. He calls us “His children” and that is where we find our meaning. So, this year’s Calliope theme is the freedom we find by breaking away from fear and grasping on to the hope we have in Christ. Throughout The Calliope each page flows as freely as it pleases. I hope while looking through this you look at it with a childlike wonder. I pray that you embrace the freedom you have; and the hope you have will conquer your fears.

sydney dennis The Calliope Editor-in-Chief

christina hammock Adviser

table of contents 6 hopes

38 fears 4

/// photo by sydney dennis

A dream is the bearer of a new possibility, the enlarged horizon, the great

hope.

—Howard Thurman 7

Waiting for life by Amber Bormann

When I can never do anything right

And I try to do everything I can

I sit down and turn out the lights

And I try to have them understand

I’m just waiting for another day

But all my obligations interrupt

And I have all these thoughts

When the days turn to night and the

inside my head

mountains seem to hide

And they’re illusions that I seem to dread

The truth is left with the light

Would someone please show me the way

When all boundaries subside

At the tick of the clock the clock

and the world slips away

the earth shakes

I’m left at the edge of a divide

And the mountains crumble down

Just waiting for life

When the days turn to night and the

When the night turns to day and

mountains seem to hide

I’m learning what to say

The truth is left with the light

It’s time to try and find my way

When all boundaries subside and the

Although I wish I could stay

world slips away I’m left at the edge of a divide Just waiting for life

I’m not justified and all I can do is run and hide As I’m waiting for life

When all around is negativity But I’m told to have positivity Things don’t really add up /// photo by naiya swientek

/// photo by callie zuniga

/// photo by naiya swientek

/// photo by sophia hammock

Semaphore of the Clock by Amber Bormann When two arms point north, the pale white light keeps watch over the shadow that wanders aimlessly. Deliberately. The shadow scavenges for something. Or nothing. When one arm moves east, the pale white light illuminates two shadows that convene restlessly. Solemnly. Two shadows uttering old appellations. Swallowed before they sound. When two arms point south, the pale white light abandons two shadows as they commune wearily. Refreshingly. One shadow fading. One already gone.

/// photo by riley tippit

/// photo by sophia baldwin

Free

by Sydney Dennis

When my eyes were full of curiosity

I think about this

and my thoughts merely debated

Each time I see a child

only things of innocent play

I envy them

wonders of how night breaks to day

for the freedom in their smile

the first beam of sunlight

But we are free

that soaked into my skin

Which sounds silly to say aloud

the comfort of my mother

Perhaps, it’s because

when getting sick and stuck in bed

This comes with no fee

learning to ride a bike

The beauty that each child carries

then feeling the need to put

The wonder and innocence

up my hands

in their heart

as the wind brushed

We have that

against my face

Only the world will try

and the excitement

and tear it apart

carried me home You are free I had no care in the world

From these earthly bounds

Only that I was simply here

Because through his grace you are found

I remember being a child With a heart full of gold

You are free

Still, her story waiting to be told

Just like that child Because of a love that says you’re enough

/// photo by gwyn lewellyn

/// photo by christina hammock

/// art by annie ramsey

/// photo by hannah rose tong

/// photo by jessica gombert

/// graphic art by sophia baldwin

A trance

Anonymous

of ethereal oblivion, of obscure absolution an infinite abyss of diversion, filled with momentary pleasure. unfathomable minds and seas of perfect imperfections an all encompassing universe brimming with emptiness

The Tear by Amber Bormann

A single light jumps off her sunken eyes A glistening diamond falls right with her pride Breathing halts, mouth opens without a sound

A salty stream flows down into her palms Yet nothing pleasing grows in stagnant water Each drop that falls is better if it is treasured

If her brave hands could catch these tainted jewels, and bottle them, she might adore her pain, her broken breath eased by her worst mistakes.

These tears are precious gems, formed under pressure. Diamonds, our strongest stones, are made this way. Perhaps one day she’ll learn to use this power. For now, she simply watches them escape.

/// photo by christina hammock

Artwork by Gracie Janse

/// artwork by jayne goodman

Self

Anonymous

She ached to be anywhere, Slipping through perfect moments, She ached to escape her head, Drifting through orchestrated thoughts. She swallowed the lies her mind poured out, She overflowed with feelings she couldn’t describe.

Yet through it all she latched onto the one part of her that left no ache. The one part that struggle had yet to take. She clung to herself, unable to fall. She clung to herself and that was all.

/// photo by joshua kupferschmid

One of the Pharisees Asked Him to Eat (Luke 7)

by Aaron Southwick

You came into my house that night The door I know not which, He was invited to recline Though never labeled rich.

You were often talked about, by A town just like the door, And like the door you stood attached Segregated, yet secure.

Then you looked down and that was it I knew it all along! The signal of the guilty A kiss revealing wrong.

How could he let you do that How could he be so kind, Could it be that you and he Were often intertwined?

Then he did something unexpected He called me out by name, As if to say I know your thoughts

The scandal, and the shame—

Words meant only for the private rooms Like ripples in a pond, And like [the pond’s] a sterile pool Best viewed from rooftop dawn—

I wonder now that time has passed Since he was in this place, His questions like a two-edge sword The scars they still remain.

Where did you get that courage from To wipe, to kiss, to smear? The current of those tears so fresh A course I could not bear.

It never crossed my mind that night

/// artwork by jayne goodman

Of love and sin attached, The symbiotic paradox Corporeal yet abstract.

/// study by nathan zuniga of georges seurat’s model from the back, 1886

/// artwork by sophia baldwin

I just gotta say what’s on my mind

But I know

It’s been her over a decade but now

yes I know

I’m out of time

I think too much

Fly

by Amber Bormann

And I know it may seem immature to want to say here just a little more

So I want to say thank you for the years that have passed by,

But I know

for the love, the notes and tears

Yes I know

that I’ve cried

The time has come

This stage has seen me grow and these lights have humbled pride

So I want to say thank you for the

But now it’s time I fly

years that have passed by, for the love, the notes and tears

So this is to say thank you to the

that I’ve cried

souls I’ve known

This stage has seen me grow and

This is a testament to the roads

these lights have humbled pride

I’ve walked alone

But now it’s time I fly

This is the moment I breathe in old life

tadpoles and butterflies

This is the time I say goodbye

I watched them grow and now I realize

I think I gotta fly………

The world is more than a pencil

I’ve left the nest and now it’s time to

map drawn on a page

fly

And poetry is deeper than rhyme schemes

He who is not everyday conquering some

fear

has not learned the secret of life. —Ralph Waldo Emerson 39

/// artwork by nathan zuniga

/// graphic art by jayne goodman

Staring at the clock, waiting for the

And I know right now I can’t see

next moment

exactly what’s in store for me.

I’ve been worried about life and

That’s what will set me free then I

thinking, “where am I goin?”

know I can find some peace

I’ve been making some plans but

when I’m blind When I’m blind –

none of them thrill me

I’m blind to my future

Blind to My Future By Amber Bormann

I’m scared of letting go, cause then I’d lose control

And I don’t know whats in store for me

And I know right now I can’t see

And I don’t know what you want

exactly what’s in store for me.

me to say

But that’s what will set me free then I

I don’t know much of anything

know I can find some peace

I just know I’ve got to let go

when I’m blind, When I’m blind – I’m blind to my future

And I know right now I can’t see Exactly what’s in store for me

It’s just another day but I’m faced

But That’s what will set me free then I

with these decisions

know I can find some peace

my mind is in a state of constant

When I’m blind When I’m blind-

contemplation

I’m blind to my future

I think I need to take a break because I can’t breathe I keep trying to impress when I just want to leave

A Gust Of Wind By Sophia Baldwin

Your words hit me like a gust of wind Your voice turns me into chaos and turns everything I thought i knew into shambles It knocks my belongings out of my hand and makes my organization come crashing down Sometimes it is hot and feels nice yet heavy Other times it is cold and piercing Your words blister and hit me like a slap to the face They slam doors and push people around who aren’t big enough or strong enough to stand their ground The earth and trees tremble in their midst But some days I need your words or wish I had them There are some things that cannot be done without them or are much for difficult at least

They feel nice on a warm day, sun beating down They can be soft or brutal, Loud or calm, Like gentle kisses and whispers of sweet nothings or shouts and screams of anger and agony Your words are like the wind Cannot be seen but do more than you know They provide energy and relief They harvest frustration and disappointment But either way they never stop There is never a time they are not there They come in gusts or linger long after But they are never gone, never absent Your words are like a gust of wind.

/// graphic art by sophia baldwin

/// graphic art by nathan zuniga

/// graphic art by jayne goodman

/// artwork by nathan zuniga

/// artwork by sophia baldwin

/// graphic art by sophia baldwin

/// artwork by sophia baldwin

Comfortable Unfamiliarity

by Sophia Baldwin

I lay down in an open field The wind brushes my hair past my face There’s something familiar The smell is sweet like candy apples yet deep like driftwood The shadows trace my features, first my toes on the cool earth, then all the curves of my arms and legs all the way up to my face The shadow falls over my eyes while my lips are covered in honey like rays of sunshine My eyes are heavy and my mind is weary though I am at ease My fingers dig into the ground below me leaving dirt under my nails To my right are sunflowers that seem tall as the heavens To my left is a creek with icy water streaming down the twists and turns of rocks Above are wispy clouds of cotton candy In front and behind me are huge mountains, staircases to the sky, a world above The serene chirping of birds eases my burdens A bumble bee lands on my arm, inquisitive it crawls around in little circular patterns It wonders what I am and what I am doing here I wonder the same thing about myself It all seems familiar yet melancholy and distant The grass begins to rustle but I remain unfazed A fox is born from the brush then another and another to come A mother and her babies She pulls them closer to her and gazes at me with eyes of amber and silk She is wondering where my mother is and why I am alone I wonder the same thing

She scurries off, the sound of fish jumping and splashing in and out of the water seems like an echo in my mind The shadows move and linger The sun begins to fade and small glowing specks appear overhead The sky transforms like a butterfly from sapphire to topaz and from topaz to amethyst before settling into darkness I gaze up at the sea of stars floating far above my head as they gaze down at me, a small glowing speck laying on the earth far below They wonder what I’m feeling And I wonder the same

/// photo by christina hammock

/// artwork by alexa georgelos

/// photo by aubrey webb

/// photo by joshua kupferschmid

Under Cover by Amber Bormann

You never know unless you ask the question.

Thoughts squirm and scrape at the back of your

s you ask the question.

scrape at the back of your once scribed tongue.

ke that first shot of brandy.

once scribed tongue. Swallow them down like that first shot of brandy. It doesn’t taste quite like when we were young.

ike when we were young. How can we know so much but nothing at all?

much but nothing at all? you often like to say.

ded perception of perfect pasts.

The novelty’s gone, as you often like to say. You’re left with a clouded perception of perfect pasts. Yet, you know, it’ll never be the same.

er be the same. Years of vague enough questions for vague enough answers—

h questions for vague enough answers—

A memoir flattened to its TOC The cliché of an open book, with a false cover.

its TOC

book, with a false cover.

Hiding beneath the guise of hyperbole.

ise of hyperbole.

/// photo by amber bormann

/// photo by gwyn lewellyn

Quarters of the skies Were streaked with clouds They ran like war cries

Running from the Flames by Lauren McDaniel

from the distant bounds

Painted scenes of a city, the fire was clear The past kept on burning and each aroused new fears

Slipping through the cracks Always forward never back Time always seems in the blame Running from the flames

They ran towards their fate Securing the present Pillared ash dissipate just as it intends

/// artwork by cody lane george

/// drawing by royal petrie

/// artwork by carissa georgelos

/// photo by charlotte walker

Forgiveness Anonymous

A man once dug a tunnel, but to where he didn’t know Harder, pacing faster ‘til no longer he could go He sat amidst the rubble of what became his daily struggle And set to ponder if in digging he had grown The past no longer vivid, as the walls had caved behind him Snuffing out the sun that warmed him when he started long ago As he toiled on in the darkness, he’d lost track of where his heart Had long desired to end up when that tunnel was a hole How that hole had held a promise that with just a little digging He would find himself immersed within a place without compare But as month and year would find him, as the dirt and grime confined him He became a man of which he was not aware How that darkness it did change him, for without his own reflection He was blinded to the things that just a glimmer would have shown And his eyes they had adjusted, for without the light to flood them /// photo by emma russell

He dug on in total darkness working now by feel alone As he tired the tunnel narrowed, as one hand before the other He fought on to dig away, and broke through into a space He no longer felt the searching, urgent work that had absorbed him And depleted he lay down and felt warm light upon his face The shame it spiraled quickly in a hot and fiery flush As his brain began to conjure up his image of disgrace He groped wildly for the darkness, from which he had just departed And wished for just a moment to return to its embrace But a wall had formed behind him, and with all the light to blind him He felt a hand on either side lift up his weary face For this tunnel he’d been digging, he arrived now with forgiving And he rose without a fear to live in grace

2013 (revised 2016)

Index Bold denotes faculty, staff or alumni. /// artwork by amber bormann

Ava Ayers Sophia Baldwin

70, 71 15, 20, 21, 22, 36, 44, 45, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55

Amber Bormann ‘19 9, 14, 24, 37, 43, 60, 61, 68, 69 Sydney Dennis

Cover, 2, 3, 5, 16

Cody Lane George

Alexa Georgelos

Carissa Georgelos ‘18

Jessica Gombert

Jayne Goodman ‘20 28, 29, 33, 42, 48 Christina Hammock

18, 25, 55

Sophia Hammock

Gracie Janse

Joshua Kupferschmid Gwyn Lewellyn

31, 58, 59 17, 62

Lauren McDaniel

Royal Petrie ‘16

Annie Ramsey

Emma Russell

66, 67

Naiya Swientek

8, 9, 12

Aaron Southwick

32, 33

Riley Tippit

Hannah Rose Tong ‘19

Charlotte Walker ‘20

Aubrey Webb

Callie Zuniga

10, 11

Nathan Zuniga ‘19

34, 35, 40, 41, 46, 47, 50

Credits genevaschooltx.org tel 830.755.6101 Rhetoric School Population: 224 Rhetoric School Faculty: 31 /// photo by ava ayers

Editorial Process All verbal and visual content is solicited and selected by The Calliope staff of Geneva School of Boerne. The finalists’ work is selected across each discipline from work submitted voluntarily outside of a formal class. All final work is approved by the adviser and headmaster. Submissions are accepted from students, alumni, faculty and parents.

School Information The Geneva School of Boerne exists to provide a classical education from a Biblical worldview, to equip students for a lifetime of learning, service and leadership to the glory of Jesus Christ.

Magazine Specifications This publication was created with Adobe InDesign Creative Cloud using Tentang Nanti and AYT Franklin Gothic fonts. This volume was released August 2021. The Calliope is distributed for free at Geneva School of Boerne.

Acknowledgments Thank you to Rob Shelton (headmaster), Christina Hammock (adviser), Sydney Dennis (2021 Calliope Editor) and to all those that submitted their work.

ava ayers sophia baldwin amber bormann sydney dennis cody lane george alexa georgelos carissa georgelos jessica gombert jayne goodman christina hammock sophia hammock gracie janse joshua kupferschmid gwyn lewellyn lauren mcdaniel royal petrie annie ramsey emma russell naiya swientek aaron southwick riley tippit hannah rose tong charlotte walker aubrey webb callie zuniga nathan zuniga ava ayers sophia baldwin amber bormann sydney dennis cody lane george alexa georgelos carissa georgelos jessica gombert jayne goodman christina hammock sophia hammock gracie janse joshua kupferschmid gwyn lewellyn lauren mcdaniel royal petrie annie ramsey emma russell naiya swientek aaron southwick riley tippit hannah rose tong charlotte walker aubrey webb callie zuniga nathan zuniga ava ayers sophia baldwin amber bormann sydney dennis cody lane george alexa georgelos carissa georgelos jessica gombert jayne goodman christina hammock sophia hammock gracie janse joshua kupferschmid gwyn lewellyn lauren mcdaniel royal petrie annie ramsey emma russell naiya swientek aaron southwick riley tippit hannah rose tong charlotte walker aubrey webb callie zuniga nathan

The Calliope, Volume 11

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The Calliope, Volume 11