It can get so lonely sometimes. These days I’m finding it harder and harder to get out—these old bones won’t last much longer; I know that someday soon I will fade away to nothing—but I can only bear to go so long without seeing the sun. So this morning, I took a walk.

When I first stepped out into the sunshine, I couldn’t help but feel positively overwhelmed by it all—the warmth, the light, the scent of grass and the sound of birdsong; and most of all the memories it brought me. I saw myself in that spring landscape. It was as if I were watching a picture film of my life.

There, just atop that hill, I knelt as a child in my blue Easter dress and inspected the patch of daffodils before me. I would choose the best ones to bring home to my mother. I can still remember the way she smiled and swept me up into her arms when I returned home, careful not to crush the delicate blooms I was clutching in my small fist. Daffodils were her favorite flower.

To all the people who hate Muslims.

Do I scare you? They call it Islamophobia after all.

Do I scare you? Does my family scare you?

Let me give you a summary of us, in case you didn’t really know us all that well.

Me,
Standing at about 5 foot 2 inches,
With big, bushy, fuzzy hair
And a penchant for zoning out and
Always having graphite-stained fingers.

My sister,
10 years old, who once made
Her own little snack dispenser
Out of a cardboard box and some tape.

My father,
Who makes us pancakes in the mornings,
Who loves gardening and prides himself
On making food out of our own vegetables
In the summers.

My mother,
Who drinks more tea than seems humanly possible
who’s just finishing up her dissertation now,
And loves dancing to any song, anywhere.

Are you scared of us? Because that seems a little silly at this point, doesn’t it?

Around, around, around
words surround me like a song;
the beautiful dissonance
sounds both right and strangely wrong—

Parts of conversations 
fly as mosquitos through the air,
their insistent whines knocking
on my resistant ears,

Snippets find my mind, ringing,
hints of others' lives:
"We got a dog!" "She's so rude"
"Do you want to hang out tonight?"

Around, around, around, 
I'm whirling in the song;
Just one note in a melody,
one person in the throng.

I want this moment to last forever
Because I feel nothing but happiness 
Nothing but love
Nothing but excitement.
A few clouds will drift back into my sky later
But for now
In this snapshot second 
My heart is beating strongly
My head is thrown back and I’m laughing
The snow is swirling around
And I feel alive.

 

Broken rulers have no way to measure, and 
I think fragile is another word for scared to fall. 
Dusty lemons make me feel sick,
and I take back everything I just said. 
Lemon scented letters-
Hands are wild adventurers.
Iris thinks the world should move slower. 



(*written using cut-up poetry technique* from Angela Palm's Writing Like the Beat Poets workshop, March 16)

to live with purpose is
to see the world in singing starlight
a beguiling black canvas
studded with moments of
existential ecstacy

a star to every time
we have raised our voices
against the thunder
and became the vein
of light which shot
into the hearts of darkness

a moon to every minute
we listened
so that every word dropped
into our wellsprings
of knowledge
or so the speaker
could rest with the knowledge
that somebody listened.

 

I think that most toddlers have some kind of imaginary friend. When I was around two years old I had an imaginary sister.

My imaginary sister was a jack of all trades but most of the time she was a truck driver. Whenever we went on a road trip I would spend most of the time looking out the window for semi trucks. Every time one went by, I would say “look, it's my sister's truck” and then tell anyone who was listening how amazing my sister was or how many trucks she drove.

My second favorite thing for my imaginary sister to do was come for dinner. Most nights I would tell everyone in my family that my sister was coming for dinner. Being imaginary she never showed. Every time she missed a dinner my excuse was, she was driving a semi truck and was out of town.

Today I cried.
I cried because my teacher sat down my class and made us watch a documentary on how we are killing coral reefs.
It showed pictures of beautiful plants and animals thirty years ago
Then showed us pictures of dead coral skeletons that were white against the murky ocean.
They told us that we could fix it and make the coral come back alive
But it still won't be the same.
Did you know that if it were not for the ocean
Our daily tempratures would be over 100 degress Farenheit?
I teared up at a photo of nothing.
The coral was just dead. 
It looked like someone had thrown litter there and never taken it out.
Climate change.
That's what's causing this.
Our oceans are warming because of all the carbon in the air
And we are killing animals.
It is highly frowned upon in our society to kill thousands of people.
But the ironic thing is that humans are killing animals and plants every day.

So the river has begun
It’s flowing ever onward
Setting like the sun
On a time when we were stronger

It’s flowing ever onward
Impossible to control
On a time when we were stronger
Before we got stuck in this hole

Impossible to control
Moving much too rapidly
Before we got stuck in this hole
About to reach catastrophe

Moving much too rapidly
Though fate still rests in our own hands
About to reach catastrophe
It’s hard not to do what the universe commands

Though fate still rests in our own hands
Setting like the sun
It’s hard not to do what the universe commands
So the river has begun
 

YWP's friend Mary Simons of Conversations from the Open Road is planning three trips this summer for student journalists -- NYC, Maine, Oregon & Washington. Find out more here! 

BIG THANKS to Charlotte Hughes and Becca Orten for hosting an amazing Social Justice SoundCheck on Thursday night at Burlington City Arts! Powerful words and great vibes! Join the conversation by writing to the "Social Justice Reflections" challenge created by Charlotte and Becca! This was the final SoundCheck of the year. If you would like to host an open mic in the 2019-20 school year, contact Susan Reid, [email protected].

Read it here
 

Amy Downing's fifth grade students at Thomas Fleming School in Essex Junction have been researching the effects of plastic on the environment and created these great videos! Check them out:
Plastic Bags - It’s Time to Care
The Plastic Problem