It’s been a week since you pulled Away from me. Since you told me You didn’t want to talk. But I still see you every day Even if there’s silence. I know things will get better.
It’s been a month since the day you Said you never wanted to see me again. And now you are going to get help And I used to be the one you went to When you needed help And now I need you. Now I need help.
It’s been four months and you’ve Cut off all contact with me. I only hear rumors from strangers about Your new school, new friends, new life. The one without me.
The one where you’re trying to forget.
It’s been six. I cry about you every couple of weeks As I scroll through my hundreds of memories And think about how much I loved you, And the times you said it back , And how I felt about you and , You didn’t even know how much you mattered.
the wind is the sound of the earth’s blood running through its veins. put your hands over your ears and you can hear it. it’s like putting your head underwater and hearing your own heartbeat.
the earth is dying. bleeding into the surface, bleeding into trees and leaves staining them crimson. leaving a bloody crimescene across mountains and valleys and clotting in piles. draining, draining, gone.
now the earth is turning pale and its skin is turning white. rivers that once ran down his face are tears that have turned to ice. the earth’s muscles stiffen and its creatures grow still. once rigor mortis sets in there is nothing that anyone can do.
the ground is cold to the touch and no matter how hard i try i cannot feel the lifeblood of the earth coursing beneath my feet. the world is void of color and thus
October 14, 2018 - YWP "Anthology 9" Book Launch at Maglianero Cafe in Burlington, VT
Congratulations to all the young writers and artists who are published in YWP's new book, "Anthology 9." It was such a privilege and incredibly inspiring to listen to all these speakers and to be able to be a part of something so incredible. Congrats to everyone! - Lia Chien
it was about three days ago, when i first noticed it. like a slight change in the weather or like when someone taps you on your shoulder and then runs away.
it was subtle, the way i realized i hated you.
the way way i hated your square features and grey eyes.
I remember it it well because i was just thinking about how much i love you, when it hit me. I was smiling to myself about you when i realized how much i hate you.
and what ive realized is it is not the kind of hate that you see in a movie, where they hate you because they love you. no. i just hate you. i hate you for telling me i’m less than i hate you for breathing and i hate you for hating yourself and i hate your dumb smile and i hate your laugh and i hate you, because, you hate you,
One day my siblings and I went to our cousins’ house. My brother and the oldest cousin were doing something together while my other cousin and my sister were making snowmen with me. We decided to make the Beatles as snowmen. So, we assigned the each person a Beatle. I got two. I had Ringo and George, my cousin had John, and my sister had Paul. We were talking while making them, and, sadly, I don’t know what we were talking about. I think my sister said something that made me playfully push her, but I accidentally pushed her into one of the Snowbeatles. His head and torso fell off. We were all like, noooo!! So, we decided to destroy the other ones. You know, one for all and all for one.
There is nothing to do, the wind said As I held a feather to my heart, Its hollow owl flight tucked beside that tiny bone- the arch I see on my chest when I breathe
It is the same arch beneath which I have walked, I think, when the orange ground stained my shoes, somewhere to the west where I inhaled dry heat and dust played in the sunbeams.
I have learned that our bodies are maps of the world. We are same giants we dreamt of as children, The giant we are both killing and trying to save.
And yet still the wind said there is nothing. Nothing to do despite all of this life—this overwhelming life— that we are, that we eat, that we must maintain lest it die. It is supposed to die. But also to live.
And so perhaps we have overlooked what the owl and the deer and the turtle and the wind still know.
Anthology 9 would make a great holiday gift for family and friends! Email Susan Reid at [email protected] to order yours today (include name, number of copies and address if you want the book(s) mailed). Books are $10/copy if you stop by our office to pick up, or $15/copy for mailed copies (includes shipping and handling). And again, congratulations to all the writers, photographers and artists who are published in Anthology 9! And thank you to so many of you -- and your families and friends -- who were able to join us for our book launch Oct. 14! Thanks everyone!! See YWP photographer Lia Chien's photosof the event.
i heard today that they're saying there's only twelve years left before global warming goes too far. twelve years. i'll only be twenty-seven. i don't want the world to end when i'm twenty-seven. and i honestly don't know what to think. there's nothing so beguiling as the power of denial. nothing like wrapping yourself up in your won problems and consoling yourself with the thought that twelve years is a long time. and indeed, there's nothing else i can do. i can do nothing to change this. sure, i can recycle, and walk more, and think optimistic thoughts but the only thing that that bolsters is my ego, my sense that i'm helping the world. i already do the first two of those things. it makes no difference. the people who could actually change this don't, or don't do enough, or maybe it's just too late.
I look into a mirror. What do I see? It's supposed to be A reflection of me. The long, dark brown hair, Tan skin, representing A country far away, Brown eyes with Lashes black, A girl so tall Her forehead doesn't Make it in the frame. The mirror says This is me, What everbody sees, But something Is missing. This image Does not hold My voice, or Tell how small I feel Inside. This representation Does not hold meaning Of who I am. yet If this is what they see, And think I am, What stops the world From knowing me as A towering girl from Some sports team, probably Basketball or crew, Perhaps from another country. If I was wearing my glasses, They might think I was Smart. Makeup might say I'm insecure, or over Confidant. But this is not who I am,
Here's the tricky part: We at YWP's Intergalactic HQ have chosen which users have the power to make recommendations by certain actions they take on the site. Whoa. That's mysterious.
You are right. But there is a reason for our mystery. We believe -- and practice has shown this to be true -- that if a user knows that their actions result in a piece being recommended, they will become self-conscious about it. And they will change their behavior.
We want these users -- who've been selected on the basis of the quality of their work -- and, particularly, commenting -- to take their actions based on instinct and gut reaction, not on a more cerebral decision-making process. And we like the fact that each of the selectors are different -- and have their own personal criteria -- and we think that gives this listing an interesting complexity.
So enjoy these pieces. The community has chosen these as exceptional. And, maybe, you've had a part in that.