Writing

the halls grow quieter each day
pages of notebooks thin with time
final bells echo softer than the first
the clock moves forward
but i feel still for a moment
caught between what was
and what waits

Break down the border

and join by the hand.

You want to join us

and we understand.

They come out of nowhere,

people rising up from the ashes,

no coordination, no plan in place,

just people who, at the same time, spread all over,

I was five when I learned that grass is not my friend. I imagined many friends, some flowers, butterflies, and others were hummingbirds. However, grass was anything but.

lately i miss owls

the mountains grumble and grow, pushing up around pumpkin shards and lost dreams

who i want to be

who i’m becoming

i feel like a dusty yellow pear

it won't be flashy, showy, or

even remotely special to the untrained eye

but those who've suffered the burden of 

knowing me will understand why

my next trick is magical.

from the seventh grader who