the brilliant blue color of the sky stretches out above me, flecked with clouds. The wind whips the bright green leaves around behind me and the sturdy branches that hold me up wobble only the slightest as I crouch above them. The golden sunlight fills the air around me with bright colors. I have lived in the trees all my life, and I have never known anything else but forest. I have known nothing but the sweet bird songs and bitter winters. I have known nothing but the frozen lakes of winter and warm breezes of spring. I have known nothing but the multicolored leaves gracefully fluttering down to greet me. I have known nothing but this forest. I have known nothing but these trees. I have known nothing but these animals. I have known nothing but the wind. I have known nothing but the wild.

I stand
watching as the wind wissels and whips past my window frame.
The bugs are out today,
I can tell by thier Buazzing and Buauauzing.
I think slowly about the day that has passed.
the troubles, the woubles,
my cat sofly mews as she takes her perch on my head,
licking my earlobe afctionatly, as if to reasure me,
that everything will be okay.
I have a plan. 
But instead of reasure me this time, 
my cat releases her kindeys,
thier eyes smiling at me.
Her teeth slowly eat my hair,
until there is none left.
All freshly pulled,
in the shredded pile by my feet.
But I know,
no matter what,
I will keep on chomping through the day.
 

Everyone gets a chance to knock,
only some are let in.
When it is my turn,
I knock once.
Once for the one individual each of us can be.
I knock twice.
Twice for the two genders that society tries to define us with.
I knock six times.
Six times for the six races society tries to judge us by.
I knock seventeen times.
Seventeen times for the teachers and students that were slaughtered in Florida for wanting an education.
I knock nineteen times.
Nineteen times for the amendment that allows me to put forth a vote that represents my country.
I knock one last time.
One last time so that they know I will come back.
And I will never stop knocking.
 

The book Fever 1793 by Laurie Halse Anderson is about a yellow fever epidemic in Philadelphia, 1793. The whole city turns frantic and hectic with the pestilence, and only the strongest can make it through alive. Matilda Cook is a  young woman growing up in her family’s coffeehouse. She struggles to survive as everything she loved is demolished by a terrible epidemic. Halse Anderson utilizes many elements of literature including characterization, plot, and imagery to help the reader understand how Matilda struggles to grow up as a woman in a city influenced by the roles she must play, from wearing painful clothing to being compared to racehorses. By analyzing these elements of literature, we can compare Matilda’s journey to current events that affect our world today, like so many factors afflicted her’s.

do you know what's right?
the fact that
we are not clay.
we are not here for you to touch.
we are not here for you to shape.
we are not here for you to taunt.
we are not here for you to hurt.
our faces are riddled with bruises from your painful lashings.
our memories are etched with thoughts of your plaguing voices.
our tears are stained with the blackness of your rotting hearts.
our bodies are worn from the marks of your trespassing hands.
but we can do it.
we can fight it.
we will do it we will fight it.
we will fight you.
and we will win.

 

what will I do?
can I take care of it?
can I love it? 
can I feed it?
why did I let this happen?
was it my fault?
nevertheless,
I am still worried. 
I don't want to admit it.
I want to get rid of it.
I don't want to be judged.
I don't want to be hated.
I just want to be loved.
I just want to be accepted.
but now the weight
of this baby
inside of me
is weighing me down.
and I don't know why.
an abortion isn't bad.
is it?
no.
it isn't
but I know
that some people are bad.
the people that try to shape me.
to make me into an object.
to model me like I'm clay.
to touch me without my permission.
and to bare me with such a heavy responsibility
the responsibility of a child.





 

the flames flicker
among 
the scattered
embers.
the heat burns
when it touches
my skin
from inside
the fire pit
the shadows dance
their firey figures
cascading off of the 
hearth 
the Embers crumble
slowly dispersing 
into burnt ashes
the fire burns


 

the caged bird in my heart
is begging.
begging to sing
begging to be heard
over the many voices
churning the world
shaping it
shaping us.
at last
I have my chance
YWP
it helps me 
it helps us
everyone reading this.
YWP has the key
to unlock the cage
so that the golden
bird
that is my heart
can be free at last
soaring
above the plumes
of fluffy white clouds
its imagination 
flowing without 
cease. 
forever.
so I thank you
YWP
I thank you 
for the key

"we will be closing in a few minuets, ma'am." says the shop keeper to my mom as she points out a nearby ferret scampering all around in its cage. the cage is way to small for it. none of these animals have enough space to live happily in, but I could only choose to save one of them. my heart pounding with emotions, mostly pressure and pity, but also some worry for the guilt or regret I will feel later on. the whole pet store is empty except for us. I make my way down the aisle of rodents. I spot a hedge hog that looks so sick that it could die on the spot, and then a rabbit that cowers in a corner, to scared to even look at us. I try not to look at the helpless creatures, but my eyes follow all of them, searching for one that looks so weak I need to adopt it. a yipping noise awakens me from thoughts of tortured animals and testing labs. I look up, searching for the source of the sound. the shop owner, who is walking behind me, also looks up with a smile.