The seed lies in the soil
It is silent
Covered in a blanket of darkness
It dreams of wriggling and squeezing into the sunlight
Craving the warmth of the mother sun
However, it waits
Hoping that spring is on the way

Spring
It is here
With open arms and a watering can
Spring slowly begins to tend to its gardens
Carefully and patiently
It brings the wind to wake the small seed
The seed is ready

Days
Weeks
The seed’s fingers climb
Pushing the dirt to the side
Gulping down each drop of precious water
Living for the touch of the sun
The beautiful, radiant sun
Her loving embrace, waiting

The seed
It knows it is close
There is ringing,
Of vibrant colors cascading over the earth
The seed’s fingers can feel it now
It is finally free

Eventually,
The fingertips morph into petals

Because I am graduating this year it finally hit me that I'd have to leave and I had a crisis about it, so I wrote a poem about it.

I used to be embarrassed to say that I am from Winooski. 
I would lie, hide, do whatever I could to disguise it.
And point out every flaw I could to try to distance myself if I was ever found out. 
Now,
As we are honing in on these last few months,
Where soon I will actually have to leave,
I don't want to. 
It has recently dawned upon me how much this school and community has had an impact on who I am and who I will become once my tassel goes right to left and I exit these doors once and for all.
So I suppose I'm writing this as a thank you. 
Thank you to the student body, teachers, administration, everybody that has seen me cry and heard me say hundreds of times that all I want to do is fail and drop out, but then taking me over and over, and helping me succeed. 

 

         The house was quiet, devoid of human life. It had been an hour since the humans had left to go on a road trip. The house began to stir, quite literally. The books perched upon the bookshelf yawned and came to life. The dishes in the cupboard carefully climbed out and began to roam around. The small, unlit candles jumped from their table and rolled into the living room. The reclining chairs and couch remained stagnant but alive now nonetheless. Every small, mobile object made its way into the living room. They seemed to be hosting a meeting, only talking amongst themselves. The pet cats that were roaming about saw the previously inanimate objects now moving around and speaking, and they yowled in confusion, scrambling to hide downstairs, dodging some small cat toys ironically hopping up the stairs.

On the one-year anniversary of the shooting at Parkland High,
I think about big things:
of love and trust, peace and courage,
of fear, violence, and hatred.
I think of problems, solutions. 
Institutions.
I think about humans-
our motivations, wants, needs. 
Our weaknesses
our challenges
our strengths.
And I think about lives bled out by bullet wounds
administered by weapons of mass destruction.

We have all heard of numerous tragedies
that continue to be repeated.
We all have some sort of tally in our minds.
And despite a lot of people's stances on gun control,
I don't think a great number of people exist
who are far from hurtened 
when these homicides are committed.
Yet overwhelmingly some semblance of a solution
has not been secured
and largely because, I think, 
of a lack of trust in our government.
A gun is an instrument of power.

I stare at the young puppy. His eyes reflect the light, and his tongue wags freely about his mouth. “I’ll think about it” I whisper, the puppy paws at  the cage and its face fills with dread, as I turn in the other direction. I look back and the puppy, it has already forgotten my face. He chases his tail, never once thinking about the maybe home, that he maybe had.

I like to think
I am invincible 
but sometimes I am not invincible to the words
that follow me around 

I live my life on wheels
four, to be exact
and I am used to it
but some people are not
they think I am not able...
just because I have a DISability

They stare and when I see them stare 
they pretend that they haven't been looking 
but inside, I know they have
and when I walk they seem surprised 
like I am sick and can't ever walk
but I CAN and sometimes 
I feel judged

They say things like,
"She can't run, let's wait for her,"
but I want to show them
just how fast I can fly. 

You watch your life fly by through a window.
I stare at it emptily through a screen,
Preferring to watch rather than participate
In a life I have never felt, only seen.
Years pass and we grow up.
Things change, friends leave.
We say goodbye and then hello.
One thousand, two thousand nineteen.

You better slow down,
Dance steady for a while
Because life is too short.
To fight time is futile.
Waltzes last longer
When held close with a smile.
So dance like a lover
Rather than a child.

Take a breath, you're doing fine.
Place your hands on my waist
And I will keep time.
You'll get better with age
Like a fine, red wine.
Just let the music swell
And know you are alive.

One more step toward me
And we'll be right in line.
So come a little closer
Put your lips on mine.
Nothing feels so perfect
Right here at midnight