The Tabard 2021 - 2022
The Tabard Literary magazine 2021-2022 Salesian College Preparatory Richmond, California Poetry & Short Stories
Art & Photography
Petra Draper Arrivas Brett Butson Serena Chuang Jessica Diaz Russell Estrada Briana Gonzalez Jaimelyn Gutierrez Layth Handoush Carrington Holmes Daniel Kariuki Sarabjot Kullar Meagan Lee Ian Leung Alexis Lopez Courtney Lovan Marcella Martins Yadhira Muro Kyra Oh Jessica Park Angel Pineda Alexander Quick Christopher Sanders Jesse Suratos Francheska Tagle Nini Toki Jermaine Inno Yuen
Paulina Acevedo Gabriela Alas Nyana Asiasi Gabrael Bey Branden Calagui Megan Castellano Sadie Cosby Sofia Fidelus Collin Jean Frecking Naomi Goitom King Henson Viviana Hernandez Carrington Holmes Jessica Lim Natalie Lopez Ethan Matthew Mendoza Samuel Prieto Maya Love-Sangco Gabrielle Stevenson Penelope Toland
Editors Serena Chuang Layth Handoush Sarabjot Kullar Ms. Sarah Trott
Cover Art Mia Bellamy Gabrael Bey Serena Chuang Kyra Oh Jessica Park
A Piece of the 70s Jessica Park Tacky wallpaper. The sound of a television off in the distance. Nicole Miller stayed silent at the dining table as her brother, Steven, went on about his sports scholarship to some prestigious college. She rolled her eyes. She was going to college this fall, too. Her father, Mr. Miller, sat at the head of the table wearing his perfect suit that never seemed to get any creases on it. Nicole, on the other hand, was wearing her expensive shearling coat along with bell-bottoms. Mr. Miller cleared his throat. “So, Nicole, what are you thinking about studying?” Mr. Miller asked. “I told you already,” she muttered. “Nicole, stop with the attitude,” Mrs. Miller added. “You are not studying cosmetology if you want an actual future,” Mr. Miller started getting angry. “So what? Why don’t you tell Steven to stop talking about football all the time and that he’s never gonna make it!” Nicole yelled. “Nicole Miller!” Mr. Miller slammed the table. Nicole stood up and left the table while her brother snickered. Tears formed in her eyes. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair. They didn’t seem to understand that Nicole had a true talent. She could make any girl look like Farrah Fawcett. What was more important than that?
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Nicole went to her bedroom and rummaged through her record collection, clearly stressed. She was spoiled. Yet her father wouldn’t provide her with the only thing she wanted—to pursue cosmetology. She shook her head as her thoughts got her more upset. After going through her seemingly endless record collection, she settled with David Bowie’s Aladdin Sane to listen to. Nicole loved Bowie’s unique glam-rock look. She loved admiring people’s signature looks. She was infatuated with it. She then stumbled upon the recent issue of Cosmopolitan, a Yves Saint Laurent catalog, and a copy of Vogue on her bedside table. Beauty. Nicole loved beauty.
Found Poem Briana Gonzalez Remember, what you have Is partially filled It can help you This amplitude between two crests
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Photo by Paulina Acevedo Untitled Anonymous What I mean when I say I love you Time slices through our lives, The short days seem longer when I feel your warmth And it seems like it’s been forever Since I last saw you.
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Alignment Anonymous Apollo’s oracle foresaw this end; the glimmering constellations as well. Perhaps they saw this end but played pretend. Two confused souls, two broken hearts; shared shell. “The stars aligned not for us, sweet Echo,” Thirteen whispered, “but for our lucid fate.” Tears poured from her glassy eyes, “I’ll let go,” Echo weakly nodded. It was too late, too late to go against the stars’ judgement, to break their intertwined karmic cycle, to change the celestial alignment, to be freed from their unending trial. “Perhaps in another life could we be?” “Then I will embrace thee with gentle glee.”
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Photo by Nyana Asiasi
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Learning To Breathe Again Jesse Suratos When we first met, you took my breath away And then you helped me learn to breathe again You showed me colors I didn’t know existed Music where there was silence I learned the smell of flowers that I used to ignore You showed me tastes that were sweeter than honey And a touch softer than silk Then all at once, you took it all away My breath, the colors, the music, All of it gone within an instant So now, remembering your advice, I will teach myself I’ll learn to see the colors again I will hear the music I’ll learn the smell of flowers again I’ll taste and touch just like I used to But right now, I’m still learning to breathe again
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The Polynesian Panthers Anonymous I stood there in the middle of the room with my mum just across from me, yelling and reprimanding me because I chose to fight for justice today. I chose justice over my mum's ego. Given the options I had, it should’ve been an easy choice. My mum, of course. But I’d rather fight for the justice that was deserved to our people that were being oppressed. Killed off and tossed to the side like we weren’t humans. “Osi talatu kakoe [I already told you], don’t go. Don’t do it.” My mum scolded at me. “But you went against my wishes and you did it anyway. Why? Do you know what could’ve happened? You mess with those people, you know what happens. That’s why we mind ours and go about our lives,” she yelled. “That’s all you say? Forget all those being killed, hurt, and locked away? Just because of the color of our skin? What have we ever done to them? Huh? Tell me!” I yelled. The next moment my face started to sting and became warm as I held it. My mom slapped me and the look on her face was defeat. True tiredness. “Don’t you dare yell at me! I am protecting you! So you can go off, have a future! You don’t have an idea of what I’ve done to come here from the Islands! To give you a better life!” she said as tears filled her eyes. She grabbed her purse and walked out the door. I dropped to the ground, my heart longing and hurting. When will it end?
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Photo by Carrington Holmes
Where Did You Go? Anonymous Where did you go? From taking me to school on weekdays to working alongside one another on weekends Where did you go? From talking about school to teaching me how to chop vegetables Where did you go? You were always physically present but never mentally
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Candlelight Layth Handoush My mother is afraid of candles. She finds their unpredictability unnerving; their warm glow a tool for destruction but only in the wrong hands. I used a candle to light my way in the dark where the unknown lingered. the hands of fear and doubt reaching for me blocked by the undaunted flame securing me in its embrace. The candle softened. Its bold flames roared in the face of brewing storms a courageous wick against the world its warm glow assuring me this too shall pass. I shield the candle from the storm. Its flame quivers and shrinks a firefly in my hands unknowing of the next. I hold my mother in a warm embrace. Everything is alright.
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Starcrossed (Inspired by Jhené Aiko) Cortney Lovan i hoped for us it wasn’t our time you’re not mine we’re star crossed lovers
What If Meagan Lee Si je guéris, Pourrai-je t'aimer à nouveau? Pourrai-je retrouver la joie que j'ai perdue? Ou continuerai-je à le chercher pour toujours? Si je reviens, Serai-je à nouveau recherchée? Ou aurai-je perdu toutes mes chances ? Si je te choisis à nouveau, Me blesseras-tu, M'aideras-tu? Ne pourrai-je jamais revenir vers toi? Ou serai-je coincée pour toujours dans cette vie sans toi ?
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The Little Boxer Jesse Suratos The Little Boxer Covered in sweat Is starting to forget His world has become focused on only the man in front of him His jabs melt into his opponent’s flesh His hooks becoming a blur of lights and colors The Little Boxer is exhausted Yet still he fights His opponent has become synonymous with his troubles The bad memories that he wanted to forget The Little Boxer remembers her The joy she made him feel The good times they had The pain he felt when she left And she found joy in another boxer instead The Little Boxer covered in sweat Fights only to forget
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Who are you and whom do you love? (Inspired by Bhanu Kapil) Anonymous To myself is the way I experience the world. Staying to myself, observing the world that's my lane. She’s everything I’m not—everything I wish I was. When it’s cold she’s the blanket. In a cold grey world, she brings all the color. In the darkness she’s light. She shines like a star on a twilight night. She’s hot chocolate on a crisp November evening. Arnold Palmer on a torrid Tuesday in July. She plays basketball for Hooper. A note to a musician, a pencil to an artist. An inventor with an idea. I’m lost. She's the map. Anything and everything. Yes, that's her, my love.
Photo by Collin Jean Freking
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I miss you XV I miss the way your voice trails off I miss when you’d throw your sunglasses into the pool and dive headfirst in And I’d grab them off the bottom and put them on I miss the way you’d look me up and down after training I miss when you’d call me cute for getting jealous I miss you texting every morning because I know you’d still think of me I miss the reassurance you gave me and when I wasn’t always on read I miss you I just miss—you
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“Christina’s World” Russell Estrada The person is Christina McLovin, she is 20 years old, and she is somewhere in Canada. The story is that after working at Canada’s Wonderland, she was going to a McDonalds for dinner and when driving there at night she saw a sign saying to turn left to go to McDonalds and when she did she noticed that she went off the road and ended up in a ditch. She was so hungry for McDonalds she crawled there until she gave up and fell asleep. In the morning when she woke up she saw a sign for McDonalds and an old house, but at this moment, she realized it was for a sign for a ranch called McDonalds instead of a restaurant called McDonalds. “I’m awake? All I can remember is driving to McDonalds. I wanted a Big Mac with large fries and a large diet coke. Mmm, that sounds good. Wait a minute, that's what I was thinking when I saw the McDonalds sign saying turn left. How did I end up in the middle of nowhere sleeping on the ground? Hey look, next to the totally not suspicious house there's a McDonalds sign. It says “McDonalds”... “McDonald’s Ranch” RANCH!!! I hope they have the ranch sauce!!!”
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The Boy With the Umbrella Serena Chuang It’s night. Only a streetlight illuminates my existence. I am the boy with the umbrella who stands at the end, battling the piercing rain droplets with the invincible force of stopping time. The street is empty, but still I am surrounded by a crowd of people, a river current driven by fish, a reminder that the world keeps spinning even if you plead for it to stop. But it isn’t only here when isolation cocoons me; it is everywhere, even when the clouds grow brighter and the sun welcomes a new day and yet I’m still locked in this dimly lit room with the flickering lights of a blurry movie. There is nobody around me but the people in the movie, living in the world I long to be—a world that is unfit for me, or maybe I’m unfit for the world. An alien they would say, an alien I label myself. Not from outer space, but not from the inner core either, but maybe the in-between, like a rain droplet floating through life with no meaning and the meaning of all. It’s a thunderstorm I was swept up in, a waterfall of crashing emotions, a sigh frozen in an ice cube. But in the end, I am a singular water droplet searching for a home that never existed because the water’s home is earth, but where is mine?
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The Writer's Dilemma Layth Handoush I wish I wrote like I thought with words filling the holes in my heart and drowning my mind the complexity jarring then subtle but beautiful Instead there is nothing.
Photo by Branden Calagui
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Photo by Natalie Lopez Love Poem Briana Gonzalez I love my dog and cool breezes on warm days and going to Maddie’s car after school and the comfort of my room and I love seeing my family and going to the park with my dog and getting cookies from the cafe and I love Christmas
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Best to Worst XV You texted me a paragraph this morning “I love you so” Called me before breakfast And asked me how you looked Texted every hour Lit up my smile and phone But later I wouldn’t know How much I’d miss you so That I’d be listening to the Rascal Flatts What Hurts the Most
Photo by Maya Love-Sangco
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Fight Night Anonymous 1996. I was ten, walking into the illustrious MGM Grand hotel with my Pops. My Name is Revere, yes, after Paul Revere, one of the OG's against the patriarchy. My dad named me this after the classic “Paul Revere'' by the Beastie Boys. Anyways, boom, we were in Las Vegas, and I had never seen so much vice in my life. People drinking, smoking, just enjoying life. My father told us as we made our way to the arena, “Don’t let me catch your eyes wandering boy,” as there were many descriptions of all types walking around. My Father, a man who valued time more than anything else in the world, even though it would be pointless to see the undercard fights, so we came to the arena as Tyson and Holyfield entered. The crowd began the scream as if a train was rumbling through a mountain. I was in awe by the amount of energy in the arena. History was unwrapping right in front of me and I couldn't have been any happier. The fight began and it was silent. A few hecklers here and there but, for the most part, quiet. The sound of these two Goliaths dancing around the ring, the thunderous crack of the leather hitting skin, leaving bruises to last a lifetime. Two mins into the fight, and I realized that this would be a day I remembered for life. The night I fell in love with boxing.
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Photo by Sofia Fidelus
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April 11th Jermayne Inno Yuen It was a Saturday morning, and I had just woken up to people screaming, "No, no, no. This can't happen." I was confused, being woken up by these sounds, I was frightened. What happened? As I got up with my eyes half-open, I saw Aunts, Uncles, Mom, Dad, Grandma all standing near my Grandpa, crying. I looked over my uncle's shoulder, and right there I knew he was gone My heart dropped. It felt like my whole world just perished, the usual up and down motion of his chest caused by heavy breathing gone, gone, just like the loud noise from his oxygen tank. I went to hold his hand: cold, cold like ice. Right then I could feel my eyes full of water. Then I finally let go. I left every single tear come down my face. I will never forget this day in April.
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Photos by Branden Calagui
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Confusing Girl Layth Handoush Your love was like a noose around my neck Every move a lost breath a lost care Until I lost myself. But you never really had me so who lost in the end?
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Drawing by Sadie Cosby
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Things you’ve said XV You’re perfect You’re so sweet Your voice is beautiful You got me catching feelings hella fast Good morning cutie You’re the only one I want Only you Goodnight cutie I wish you were here I miss you I miss you too Yes ma’am I’m sorry It can’t work out I didn’t mean to hurt you I don’t want to end up cheating on you No its perfect, I’m glad I got to spend time with you Opened 2 Hours Ago Opened 19 Hours Ago Opened 1 Day Ago Opened 6 Days ago
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Finding A Friend (Modeled after "The River Merchant's Wife") Carrington Holmes I always knew I’d find a friend, but I always Doubted the thought. Now here we are, And loom at what that brought. At 13, I was nervous to even talk to you. Sure are parents knew each other, But what do I do? Do I go say “Hi! How are you today?” Or do I just...shy away? At 14, we said hi here and there But I never expected what was Coming next, I swear. At fifteen, we got each other’s number So we could talk on the phone. I started to realize that I wasn’t alone. I imaged how it would be years from now Sitting with you at the mall wondering “How?” At sixteen we went to the same high school. We had about 2 classes with each other But I still thought it was cool. I’d always say “hi” every chance I had You always seemed to be glad.
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And here we are at seventeen. I never thought I’d be a teen. Tall, sleepy, and sometimes mean. I never thought I’d even be seen. You and I went to homecoming as friends, I’ll live that memory down to the end. But I’m glad you do all that you do, And I also wanted to say, “Thank you for being you.”
Photo by Gabrael Bey
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Replacing the Dull Vignette Anonymous A small pencil dances erratically, Marking grey graphite strokes on the blank paper, Like blades of sleek silver streaking the cloudy Ice. The rain kisses the glass, “Pitter-patter,” It sighs as its sweet, petrichor scent blows Throughout the small bedroom, lit up by bright star And lantern string lights. Their soft, warming glows Brightening up the room. A petite girl Hums, immersed in the relaxing music Playing in her ears as the rain continues To sigh. A colored pencil twirls and leaps like A ballerina. The vibrant colors Seamlessly replacing the dull vignette Till it finishes and repeats its rivet.
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Photo by Viviana Hernandez
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Blue Skies Reply Anonymous My body moves on its own, the music Taking hold and pulling me into its spell, Like a siren singing its hypnotic Song. The music echoes like it’s in a well Until the beat drops like the rapid fall Of the rain. It's chilly piercing kisses My face in this infatuated peril. I leap and spin, landing on the puddles And shattering their watery mirrors. I laugh madly and throw my head back, facing The crying heavens. Their freezing, sweet tears Fall on my grinning face. I stand, gazing Into the parting sky. The grey clouds sigh And the beautiful, crystalline blue skies reply.
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Rain Angel Pineda Droplets hitting the windows all night long Sounds like tiny pebbles hitting the ground Plants and trees smiling in their shower for long The sun soon creeps from the clouds Drying the wet surface The plants glistening, too happy to notice Shimmering and shining
Photo by Paulina Acevedo
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The Bakery Two Blocks Away Jessica Diaz The bell rings School's out oven alarm goes off fresh bread sign up With my plaid skirt And matching sneakers I run to the bakery Get my quarters Get my tostada in return Kindergarten years Portola district Memorable times Forever in the depths of my memory
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Photo by Penelope Toland
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How Will You Live Now? (Modeled after Bhanu Kapil) Jessica Park “Maturity.” No. Your childhood was taken away from you. Pick pocketed. In a way that you reach for your left pocket and realize that it’s gone, long after it was actually stolen. It must’ve slipped away. Or did the trauma leave you blind? Turn around. Face the past that’s standing right behind you. So how will you live now if a fragment of you is missing? How will you live now if a part of you is dead? Or perhaps, a part of you was never born.
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Angel Brett Butson When you walk into the room, Your smile lights it up like the Fourth of July. The sense of freedom from the way you walk Is brighter than the sun in the sky. Your eyes radiate the room, And touch my heart. I miss every second When we are apart. The way you talk inspires me In a time of despair and distress. A single hug can lift me up. It's a feeling I cannot suppress. You don't quite know it yet, How much your presence means to me. You're like my guardian angel, Saving me from what I can't see.
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Prowling New Orleans With Guns Galore Anonymous Everywhere you go, you see it. There’s just no way you can miss it. The backends poke out and the outline of the trigger and barrel beautifully molds into the shirts exposing its corners. In a matter of 15 minutes, about 2 older men and 4 young men just walked by with guns. The pungent smell of smoke fills the air, and instinctively I cover my nose. “What you doin’ out hea boy?” my father said. There’s no doubt that annoyance was evident on my face. We really didn’t like each other nor spoke to one another unless spoken to. “Nothing. Needed some fresh air,” I said blatantly. He chuckled, “Fresh air? You know where we at?” as he flicked his cigarette and crushed it into the ground. Nothing pisses me off more than someone else sticking their nose in where it don’t belong. I threw a rock and got up walking away without saying a word. Behind, I can hear him yellin’ on about something but in my mind I was somewhere else. I walked around the corner to get to the liquor store. B&B Liquors sit atop of the store as I enter it. Now everyone has had their childhood corner store where everybody went, and this so happens to be mine. I go to the back and open the fridge looking at the alcohol freezer. “Boy what you doin’ over here,” a deep voice from behind me huffed. I jumped up at the voice and turned to see Dante, the store owner. “I wan’ doin’ none Dante, you know me,” I said playfully. Dante laughed and rubbed my head.
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Dante was probably one of the most important people in my life. He was more of a father to me than my biological father. And it never sat right with me. As we talked, there was a loud slam. Dante grabbed my arm and squeezed it as he pushed me behind him and down on the ground. “Stay there. Don’t. Move,” he said sternly as I laid there on my stomach. Dante crouched and walked off. All I could hear was screaming and banging. By this time sweat formed on my face and I was shaking. There was no doubt that fear was in my eyes. Dante looked back at me once more and I shook my head begging for him to stay. He put his hand out while crouched looking around the corner. Next thing I knew I blinked and he was gone. One shot. Two shots. Three shots. I flinched and squinted my eyes at the loud sounds of a gun going off. Next thing was silence. And lastly, sirens. It was like a whole cycle. I got up and wobbled my way to the front. Before I reached the corner, I saw a pool of blood and footprints leading out the door. In the midst of all that blood, Dante laid there as still as lake water on a summer day. My heart races more and more as I step closer to Dante. My eyes sting and my nose runs. I fell to my knees and grabbed Dante. Anger, pain, horror, grief. I yelled and cried out for help. Blood stains my clothes and hands. The vividness of it all entrances me and I black out. The last thing I can remember was calling out for Dante. The sound of bands playing and people clapping in beat to the music. Trumpets, saxophones, and more play throughout. I wake and see that I’m in my bed. “Hello? Pops?” I call out curiously. I hear shuffling in the background and low voices. I get up and open the door. There sat my pops and a couple of police officers.
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Each of them looked at me saddened with uneasy faces and eyes. “What? What’s wrong? Where’s Dante?” as I slowly walked towards them confused. Each of them looked at one another figuring out how they would approach me. It wasn’t rocket science that there was something bad coming next. One of the police officers spoke up. “Son, I’m sorry but Dante didn’t make it,” he said hesitantly looking down at his cap that he held in his hands. My heart sank and I couldn’t believe it. There’s no way Dante could have given up so easily. “No! He would’ve fought! He would’ve fought for his life, you're all lying to me! Show me Dante!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, tears streaming down my face. One of the policemen tried to hug me but I jerked back. I grabbed my jacket and shoes running out of the house to his shop. He’s there, I know he is. He’ll be right there behind the counter waiting to greet me with a smile. I turned the corner to find that the store had been closed off. Yellow tape that read “Do not enter” wrapped the store. I stood there, defeated against the world.
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Photo by Samuel Prieto
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A Woman (Inspired by Eve Ewing) Jaimelyn Gutierrez A women is many thing in this world She’s a mother, a sister, a grandmother, or even a friend A woman can be seen as an object in this cruel and selfish world But no one does anything about it A woman goes through so much but goes through her pain in silence She would rather carry the burden of her pain in silence than share it with others A woman is like the spider who tried to climb the water spout She gets pushed down by the rain and still tries again And in the end the sun dried up all the rain so the spider climbed the spout again
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The Things I Love the Most Kyra Oh I love the sound of a running stream and watching the sky slowly change from different shades of blue to pink and I love coming home to my warm bed and staying inside to watch movies during a storm and the soft crackling of a bonfire and listening to my favorite songs on repeat until I get sick of them, I love the love that my friends shower me in constantly and the sound of all the different conversations occurring simultaneously during a gathering and the sounds of my loved ones laughing until they cry and that first long awaited bite of food after a long day and the alluringly sweet smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on a stormy winter night.
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Image by Samuel Prieto
Morning Time Anonymous The morning rituals of brushing teeth, Getting ready Starting the day off as right as can be And the rarely vivid moments when you awake, At the first sound of the alarms Stepping out into the world as frightening as it is Walking the lengthy path to the place those call ‘hell’ The disquieting feel of stepping into the halls, And the “punishment” of having to be in such a place But this dream is a nightmare waiting to happen
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All the Good In Life (Modeled after Lisa Jarnot) Anonymous They love the warmth of the summer and the cold breeze of the winter evening and the warmth that fills their body when they drink the broth from the soup and the activities that follow the warm weather also the joy that fills their body when reminded of their childhood and all the lego sets they've built throughout the years and they love the Vietnamese sandwiches that remind them of the good times years ago in a city that is far away yet close and their doll collection that never stopped growing.
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Photo by Collin Jean Freking
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Dream Christopher Sanders You’re fast asleep, but I wish I could hear your voice again. Your voice brings me love and happiness, and that is what I fell in love with from the very beginning. You’ve had a lot of time spent with me, so I’m content with giving you your own time within your own dreams. I wish I could enter your mind and spend time with you in the dream world, but that’s an invasion of privacy. I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow and take on a brand new day with you. I love you more than life itself, and I’m forever grateful to call you mine. Goodnight, and sweet dreams.
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Photo by Gabrielle Stevenson
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Home Serena Chuang The sun whispers about time. Tick, tick, the rays graze against the criss-cross screen, an obtrusive meddler, an enclosure amidst reality. Morning is the intruder, snake venom seeping into the crevices of twitching fingers and luscious dreams, awakening the aromatic stench of tiredness before my eyes are pried open from an inexplicable disturbance—ah, I, a monotonous miniscule mortal of reality drowning in society, lost in the countless euphemisms of exhaustion and never-ending toiling of habitual thinking. Memories of mind-numbing stress and fistful frustration cradled against the weeping willows, engraved in the creases of my hands and parched lips raw to touch. The whirlwind of regret, the madness of work— fight, they say, against the fleeting smiles of energy—fight like the way of the world, to repeat as time repeats, to run as time runs, to live as time lives. Freedom only breathes within the confines of my mind. Let out of its cage, ferocious and starving, it bounds through the forests and ridges of the universe, oblivious to the apocalypse awaiting. Flick of a wrist, reality drowns out as the movie rolls, and each thought whisked away to sprawling lands, carved to fit the gaping hole of crackling desire, molded for the next line of the script. It is only here when the imagination works continuously, never intercepted by assaults of words, a clear cut of the synapses into scrambling entities like long lost puzzle pieces flung into the sea of history.
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But peace only stays until the rainbows fade, to be shadowed by impending cloud tremors and Zeus’s wrath. Through the air, my half-slumbered mind erodes the crags of dreaming until I slip into the piteous hole of sleep, dreams dragged down like a hurricane settling into mist, the climax of imagination blooming only to stutter into dust as the aftermath bathes in the death of a sunset. And is sleep what we need to regenerate, or is it home amongst the wild turquoise-gold lakes and glass jars of hearts? Time does not wait for contemplation. The sun smiles with pride; its vice-like grip is never late. Morning slanders the subconsciousness; exhaustion is greedy for love. To think freedom ever had a chance to fly away is to believe immortality exists in reality.
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My addiction Anonymous You hesitated on saying hi to the elderly man on the bus, You could’ve made his day but your social anxiety got the best of you What if he needed a spark in his day and small conversation, or what if he would’ve been one of the people that ignore you when you say hi? What if you would’ve raised your hand in class? You knew the answer but you second guessed yourself. Why do you sit alone behind a warehouse, head down, with worries going through your mind, avoiding going home? There’s good to the absence of noise too, though. Why do you not say anything when you walk into the house? Why do you ignore the loud shouts and constant arguing? …………. Silence is a drug, it takes over without you knowing and I’m an ongoing addict
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Photo by King Henson
Photo by Ethan Matthew Mendoza
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Flight UA1805 Jessica Diaz I see the people bustling back and forth I see the silver and black suitcase being rolled and carried around I see from the crystal ceiling, the clouds expanding till they vanish. I see the majestic indigo and royal blue hues of the sky Becoming more prominent the more I lock gaze with it in awe I interrupted in my thoughts with the rumbling The sound of an aircraft shooting up the sky until it disappears into the horizon I see glowing signs everywhere telling me it’s time to depart Even though I am not there yet, I see Guatemala welcoming me with its luscious emerald green vegetation and spewing volcanoes I see that the moment I desire has finally come.
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A Conundrum Anonymous In me there are trillions. Outside there are trillions, too. What truly matters? Me, or you? Am I the only thought present, Just because I am the only thing I feel? Or is there so much I am missing, A blind man amid a meal. Must I trust in my ignorance, Or believe that my ignorance is strength, To trial that I am the only, When the rope I am on is much greater in length? Despair or rejoice, which is the path? Maybe I should just dwell in what I see, And marvel at what I don’t, Confused and inspired but always in my pursuit, free.
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Tired Ian Leung I am laying down in the grass. Its soft embrace sinks me in. I feel myself going deeper and deeper. Further and further into the abyss of sleep. I feel the sun coming out. Its warmth lulls me further into this abyss. I feel tired. There are a few trees of all different sizes and varieties. One is ten times my size while the other is only two times my height. It feels peaceful; it feels like heaven. This grass and the soft clicking of a keyboard are all I need. The raspy chirping of the crows. The whining of a gate far away from me.
Photo by Gabriela Alas
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What are the consequences of silence? (Modeled after Bhanu Kapil) Briana Gonzalez I could hear them. However, this time it was louder. I ran downstairs. I stood on the step and watched as my parents continued yelling. I’m exhausted! I can’t take this anymore! My mom couldn’t get a deep breath from crying so hard. I didn’t know what I could do. My dad kept antagonizing her. He was yelling so loud the glass cups were clinking together. I stood there. I yearned to save my mom from my father’s brutal words.
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5:54 A.M Christopher Sanders 5:54 AM, on a summer morning On the north side of California’s Bay Area, Lies a beautiful scenery Resting on the waters outside of the American Canyons. The essence of Mother Nature, combined with the fresh crisp morning air against my skin, and the morning birds chirping in the distance comes with a bright and radiant sunrise. The sun’s beautiful rays clash against the bright blue waters And reflected a red hue across the horizon. Local inhabitants Of all types of personal motives Come here to bask in the sweet morning weather. I’ve come here many times I’ve lost myself here, And also found myself too.
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Photo by Jessica Lim
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What Good is Now? Layth Handoush Because I'm so happy I fear that tomorrow my happiest moments will be behind me And they say to just be grateful be mindful be present But I can't I don't want to I don't want you to be a sunset beautifully impermanent I want you to stay I wish I could stay.
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Picturesque Horizon Jessica Diaz The blowing of the wind swirling through any creak it can find, creating a lullaby across the valley full of blooming poppy flowers. The blazing sun becomes tired and starts to descend, Going across the color spectrum it runs into orange, chooses orange to make its harbinger of the dim dusk that’s to come.
Drawing by Megan Castellano
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Ghost Story Kyra Oh My tired eyes shot open. The usual beams of light that would flood the room with a bright, warm color were nowhere to be seen. I got out of bed and shivered at the sudden contact of cold air on my once warm skin. I pulled the window curtains aside and noticed it was still dark out. I turned my head toward my nightstand and the alarm clock read 3:01 a.m. I must’ve had a bad dream. I decided to get a drink of water now that I was awake. On my way back from the kitchen I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. I have been living alone for nearly a year now. I told myself it’s normal to be worried about what may be lurking in the shadows. Then I proceeded to remind myself that I’m a grown adult and I should have nothing to be afraid of. This thought immediately left my head, however, when I heard a scratching noise. It was so quiet that I began to wonder if I had simply imagined it. I decided it wasn’t just my mind playing tricks on me when I heard it a second time, this time ever so slightly louder. I eased my way toward my room, which seemed to be the source of the noise. I could barely see although my eyes had already been adjusted to the darkness of the house. The closer I got, the more aggressive the noise became. I mustered all of the courage in me to grab the handle and turn it. Before another thought could even enter my mind, a tall, deformed shadowy figure grabbed me with its cold, damp hands. My tired eyes shot open. My heart was racing at what felt like a trillion miles per hour. My throat felt dry and my whole body was drenched in sweat. It was just a night terror. For a while I felt paralyzed in my bed. Finally, I regained the ability to move and I glanced over at my alarm clock: 3:01 a.m.. There it was again, that same scratching noise.
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Photo by Naomi Goitom
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Desert Currents Jessica Park Streams that weave Through the canyons Happiness in its flow Sadness drifts away Eroding the sand.
Understanding Layth Handoush She swore to never garden again, for now she knew how the flowers felt. To be uprooted and crushed thrown into an environment that you know will not sustain you. In her last moments she wept. She wept for every flower she pressed.
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Photo by Viviana Hernandez
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Land of Tranquility Serena Chuang taste the eerie silence on your tongue and the flurry of sand like crunching salt on the land Mother Nature governs only for the whispering Wind to rule. under the Eyes of towering Rock, juniper trees and seep springs gnarled through, and the scarlet Earth burying yucca roots those picked by careful sun-baked hands. Yá'át'ééh is etched on the swinging sign a welcome, a smile, an extended hand offered by Lady of the Hogan, aflame by the rising East to chase slumber away. But Rock is the protector, the knights peaceful and vigilant for centuries, hidden Eyes watching perpetrators who disturb the Land of the Navajo. And even faced with tentative footsteps, gentle smiles, Mother Nature’s embrace, my touch is still disorder in the Land of Tranquility.
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My Place Anonymous The most majestic of places Welcomed by fresh air and the scent of woodland An umbrage of trees just outside the window A space so vast and full of light come sunrise Come sundown, however, the space turns dark and gloomy. The dense walls block any noise from entering; quietness lies between the naked walls Only I view my place with eyes of astonishment Only I view my place with eyes of enchantment
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Photo by Gabrael Bey
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Dinner Anonymous She had smooth brown skin. Her face was clear with small wrinkles on her forehead. Her eyebrows were bushy but nicely done they looked like two perfectly shaped watermelons upside down. Her jawline was defined and had a long face complementing her short neck. Her shoulders were broad and had a 7 foot wingspan. Her left arm had a festival of tattoos, her most noticeable was the red tattoo which featured a cross. Her right arm was completely clear and smooth. Her fingers were like thinly cut french fries, with her fingernails being cut short and had little to no dirt inside of each nail. Her wrists were very narrow.
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Brown (Inspired by Rupi Kaur) Cortney Lovan To me, Brown was a useless color Brown is everywhere on earth Brown is the color of my skin And I love it.
The Bay Made Me Anonymous I am from Oakland public schools, and dirt roads in Mexico, I am from crowded bedrooms and early breakfast, I am from tortillas with scrambled eggs and black beans on the side, I am from Richmond where crackheads ask for cigarettes but won’t accept food, I am from Nichol Park the home of the homeless and the famous bridge, I am from Sankofa where kids get stabbed with pencils, I am from my mom, the hardest worker I’ve met who’s overcome everything, I am from the bay, where you get honked at for doing the speed limit
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Drawing by Samuel Prieto
Photo by Viviana Hernandez
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Stars Anonymous
Once upon a time there lived a small girl, the size of a pea, with the heart as big as the universe. Even though she was so small, her love for everyone and thing was endless. As time went on, she met people bigger than her but with small hearts. So, she decided to make them bigger. Their hearts gradually grew bigger until they were of normal size. But then, they left the small girl whose heart shrunk from the abandonment. This cycle repeated for countless years until the small girl’s heart was drained and as small as her body. So, she looked up to the twinkling Stars and gentle Moon and said, “You have a lot of friends. They’re always with you and they’re always smiling. How can I do that, too? How can I stop people from leaving me?” The Moon smiled gently and softly blew away the clouds to meet the small girl. The Moon replied, “I have many friends, yes. But some of them also go away, too. It hurts, yes but you must cherish what they gave you. Soon, you will find your stars among the clouds and darkness. So keep smiling and never let your heart waiver.” With that, the Moon laid back down into the towering mountains and went to sleep.
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Then, the Sun rose up and brightened the sky with his big smile, “Hey there,” grinned the Sun. “What are you doing?” The small girl blinked and grinned. “I’m just thinking, that’s all!” The sun cocked a brow, “What thinking has got you thinking so intense, then? You’re usually bubbly and up and about.” The small girl wiped her eyes, “I’ve just been feeling lonely. All of my friends left me and I don’t know what to do to fix it.” The Sun went silent and thought to himself for a moment. “That’s okay! Sometimes, the way to fix something is to leave it be. Let yourself breathe and have time for yourself. We all need space to ourselves. And before you know it, something will happen be it for the better or for the worst. But that’s something the future you has to experience. For now, enjoy yourself!” The small girl nodded and smiled sweetly, “You’re right! I’ll do just that.” And so, from that day onwards, the small girl allowed herself to calm down and enjoy herself. She began realizing that she herself can be happy and that’s what she did! She slowly embraced her insecurities and passions and became better. One day, the Sun and Moon came together to talk to the small girl, “We are glad to see you’ve been doing better. We would also like to take you on a trip with us. Would you like to go?”
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The small girl beamed with excitement and eagerly nodded. With a gentle breeze and a fluffy cloud to carry the small girl, they took her up into Sky and into Space where all the Stars stared at her. The small girl hid behind the cloud and looked at the Sun and Moon, “I’m scared. What do I do?” They smiled, “Be yourself.” With a hesitant breath, she stepped off the cloud and floated in the twinkling darkness. “Hello! How are you all? You guys look great! Would it be okay if I joined?” The twinkling Stars continued to stare and said nothing. The small girl felt her throat and chest tighten up, she was losing confidence. But then she remembered the words of the Sun and Moon. So, with a more confident breath and bright smile she blurted out, “YOU GUYS ARE VERY PRETTY SINCE I WENT TO HEAVEN AND BACK. MY EYES HAVE BEEN BLESSED AND I WAM WONDERING IF I AM WORTHY ENOUGH TO TALK TO YOU STARS.” Silence. A Star giggled. Another blushed. Another looked down. Then, they all smiled. “You’re so nice and thank you! And of course! Don’t worry, we’re just a bit shy,” explained one. The small girl smiled and felt her heart warm up and become bigger. Just like that, she began to converse with all the Stars, making them laugh, cry, and smile.
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