Sep 26

first weeks of school

you find yourself thinking in class
how peculiar it is there is no more windows
so now all you have around you
are the hard wooden walls
keeping you trapped within.

you wonder to yourself how this can be
because won't you get lonely without the rain
to keep you company? 

and what if someone decided your life wasn't important anymore
and what if they came in
as they so often do these days
and what if you were trapped
within the two layers of wall,
no hope of escaping in time? 

you don't understand how they can keep you this way
without even the company of the sun
to free you to the world?
Sep 19

a falling star

we used to live for the way nothing lasted forever.
it kept us on our toes,

contemplating our hopes and dreams.

you were
single lines of poetry
scribbled into battered notebooks.
late at night.

nobody was ever awake to witness
the way you crossed them out afterward.

people wouldn't understand,
you whispered to yourself. 

sometimes before i fall asleep
i think of the way you spoke of
the cities
and the rain
and the faces
and the poems
and the opportunities
and the future. 

i still remember the plans we made
the people we swore we'd be forever.
the places we said we'd go.

if things were different,
maybe we would still appreciate 
the beautiful forgotten things
the world has left behind.

maybe you'd still remember my name. 

but all we have left are
rolling storm clouds
an empty notebook
Sep 17

tomorrow in the morning

it's all a dream.

i see it in the way the peaks of the mountain
scrape the deep blue sky.
cutting jagged edges 
leaving scars. 

you spoke of the places you wished to go
the globe spinning at your fingertips.
but again,
how do you know they're real
when you've never stepped far from home?

i imagened  the way i'd float on clouds
right away,
the day we finally learned to fly.
if i ever made it that far
i would have fell down to the hard reality:
you know it as earth.

some call it love

i call it 


it doesn't matter though.
tomorrow morning
we will probably

have forgotten.

Sep 09

dancing with the sun

6:37 PM.
early september.

follow me,
called the sun.

and so we did.

up and over the hill,
bike wheels on dirt road
cool breeze in loose hair
the world on fire.

an open field
tinted by the filter of late summer. 

we run and spin and smile and talk and sing and laugh and live.

the world is broken.
it's battered and bloody and bruised
damanged and disfigured and distressed.

but it's also this,
whole and joyful and jubilant. 

we're alive.

and so
we dance with the sun. 

8:24 PM
early september.

it will get better,
whispers the sun.

we forget we ever doubted otherwise. 
Jul 04

redefining america

dear america,

liberty and justice for all. land of the free, home of the brave.

except those we have deemed not good enough
not strong
worthy enough

to make the american dream
a sweet one again.

nightmares wake us up,
and once we are woke
we stand united.

patriotism never meant an undying support for our country.

it's the things we truly love 
that challenge us most.

maybe that's why we need to be willing to fight.

redefine patriotism, america.
determine it to mean not pure devoition
but more simply a willingness to fight against the path our country chooses
in order to build us back up as we fall.
turn our fear into hope
hate into love
and silence into actions.

if we truly love our country
critisize it until we all open our eyes.

we're ready to turn the page
Jul 04

thoughts on a rainy afternoon

the sky is shy some days.
the clouds prefer not to share
their dazed thoughts
and broken hopes and dreams.

the stars don't often contribute
with their speculations of the world below.

sometimes silence sits still in the night air
and holds us.

but in other stolen moments,
the sky opens up.

the rain falls in reflection
of all the things the world above us
doesn't know how to say.

a whisper in a drizzle
a cry in a downpour

sometimes the world
is willing
to give it all a chance

May 27

realizations of forever

we’ll be on our own.

voices drifting with the wind
a thousand songs
and a thousand more.
the simple sadness
of the final notes
lingering on the breeze long after we’ve gone.

if we were ever meant to fly
our feet would not settle for the ground.

we've always longed for comfort.

we knew forever
only meant 'for a moment'

they told us the city never sleeps at night.
the sturdiness of its hands on ours
assuring our arrival back some day.

we’re only human.
lilacs in the spring didn’t ask
to slip away
so soon.
the way the world works
has always been a mysterious

memories whisper in our ears.

twiddling thumbs.
mind wandering
fleeting time.

set us free.
don't let me go so soon.

maybe we’re not ready.

you built us to be strong.
Apr 15

The Lies We Tell

"why should i care?"

she asks them,

laughing and rolling her eyes

as the sun ducks behind a cloud.

"i never did care."

she says,

her gaze catching for a moment on him

and the sun returns from its hiding spot. 

"did i care?"

she wonders to herself

as the conversation drifts on

and the sun once again disappears from sight. 

"i don't care anymore."

she insists within her thoughts,

shaking her head

and accepting the sun would rather remain unseen.

"i used to care."

she accepts 

closing her eyes as the memories flood her mind

and the first droplet of rain falls from the sky.

"i can't care anymore."

she whispers
Mar 15

a letter to the US government

you’ve never met me,
have you?
did you have any idea whatsoever
that i exist at all?

let me introduce myself.

i don’t need you to know my name,
feminist would be fine.
nevermind that.
call me what you like.
i am not defined by your words.

i am writing to you
not to say what you’re doing wrong
or to tell you how evil you are.

i have never met you
so i believe it’s unfair to make judgments.
that much is a lesson i should hope
you’re one day able to learn.

i am writing for change.

immigrants aren’t criminals
unless we make them so
by making it illegal for them
to dream.

women aren’t weak
unless men
are equally weak
and strength has no meaning at all.

love is love
unless you can inform me what else it could be
because i was never taught another definition
so please enlighten me.
Mar 15

Writers for Change

Recently, a few of my friends from school and I have begun a program that we are calling Writers for Change. The idea is to collect poems, essays, short stories, etc. about the changes we would like to see in our country. We plan to send all pieces we receive to the U.S. Congress, along with an attached letter explaining what they are, and what our group's purpose is.

We are looking for work done by any kids under voting age. If you like to write and you want to be involved in current issues and standing up for what you believe in, please write something (or send us existing work) talking about the changes you would like to see, and why you want to see them. Don't hold back! Please share as many pieces as you want.