INTENTION
Lauren Bellamy (8/26/22)
Shining with intention, she steps out, strong
And ready to move forward, prepared to
Be herself only, wanting to belong
In a space not meant for her to walk through
Easily but that doesn’t pose a threat
To her confidence; contrarily, she
Thrives, seeking nothing and doesn’t forget
The path she traveled on, all to be free
From her mind and those who didn’t want her
To flourish, to walk in her purpose. Time
Doesn’t exist in her mission, though for
A symbol of what rewards her long stride.
Determined and steadfast, not with a yawn,
But with the beautiful rise of the dawn.
BAD THINGS HAPPEN AT NIGHT
Jamie C. Hill (8/26/22)
Mother told me not to stay out too late. “Bad things happen at night,” she nagged. But I didn’t listen to her. I stayed out too late.
Blood soaked my hands, and I ran. My feet carried me back home before I could be caught.
When I arrived, I headed for the bathroom sink. I washed my hands, and I washed my knife. As I went to bed, I smiled in gratitude.
After all, bad things happen at night.
CIRCE
Vaishnavi Srirama (8/26/22)
You are so feeble-minded;
So hopeless and desperate.
All it takes is one glance,
One glass of wine,
One doting eye.
For you to think you have the upper-hand,
And take advantage…
Of me.
Or at least try.
For I have these potions
Of herbs and grasses.
A splash of my wicked mind
Bottle’s worth of magic
And made with my fair hand.
Couldn’t you tell?
How the tableware effortlessly danced around you
Without even a touch from my hand.
Couldn’t you see?
How your glass of wine was never empty
And you and your men drank like…
Like pigs.
For that is what you all are.
Look at you.
So hopeless; so desperate.
Go,
Go through the back door
To your pens.
You disgusting, little pigs.
You are now my prisoner.
May this goddess go easy on you fools.
LEAP OF FAITH
Jamie C. Hill (8/26/22)
If you jump from the ledge,
you’ll fall into a pit of despair.
What is the point of your jump?
If you truly want to make a leap,
let it be of faith without grounding.
Instead of falling,
you will soar.
SUSPENDED
Lauren Bellamy (12/4/21)
Slowly drowning out, the lights dim
in my mind, getting ready
to shut down
The energy in me, a broken record
worn down, not in peace, world
keeps persisting
I’m in a liminal space,
On the brink of calling
out, acting out
Suspended in freefall
and anxiety and
anger, just ready to…
drift...
off…
ANTHOLOGY OF DELUSION: GLASS
Elizabeth Shull (12/4/21)
Social Anxiety
I am locked in a cage of glass,
Always looking out but never able to speak.
The passerby only see the glare
Of a harsh and cold façade.
My feet keep sinking further into the ground
And dirt crowds up the legs of my pants.
When stutters fall from my mouth I only descend faster.
Never dreaming escape, to stay the same is to stay silent.
Of course, I believe escape would be fruitless.
Nobody can hear or see me.
Nobody cares or needs me.
All I have ever done is wait and observe.
Multiverse
On clear mornings, rays of sun wake me up.
My first part of these days is seeing
Rainbow prisms refracted in the light.
They remind me of endless universes clustered together.
On these days I think about everyone I have loved,
Everyone who has loved me…
I indulge these delusions.
On these days I wonder what exists outside these walls…
If there is another me somewhere,
Not someone in this cage but a girl living freely,
If she could speak beautiful words without fear.
She— I- must be living this life somewhere.
I wonder if humans have an innate potential.
If I could act upon these wondrous wonderings,
Or if I am destined for a path I cannot change.
Limited Space
I am afraid there is a leak in my brain because
All of these dangerous dreams keep trying to escape.
They fill the air around me and appeal to my sense of pride,
Decrying legacy and infinity and impossibility.
Multiverse II
I will never plant a tree in front of my window
Because I like the burn of the rays of sun.
They give warmth and safety.
If my window went dark I would have to go out.
I am not ready to consider that the self I know
Might be the one I have dreamt about my whole life.
I am not ready to test this window latch and find
That it is not rusted, but completely pristine.
TALKING
Lauren Bellamy (12/4/21)
Personality comes through in a variety of ways...
A subtle nod when asked a question;
Kool-aid grin at the possibility of a misunderstanding;
A quick rolling of eyes at the start of a speech from someone you don’t like...
But then you open up with a sigh and a
“Basically” and a “long story short” though
your whole story is told in a five minute
monologue in which people stopped listening at the
“Basically”
OIKOPHOBIA
Jamie C. Hill (12/4/21)
There is a door
in the middle of the hallway,
forever a consort
to whomever strays.
But this door is beyond comprehension.
It is a gate of apprehension
to an illusive dimension,
one which projects the darkness of Hades’ domus
and teems with the silence of Gautama’s stillness.
Should you pass by this gate,
hasten your pace
or you may be pulled away
for an eternity to stay.
DECEPTION OF THE DECEIVER
Elizabeth S. (10/15/21)
His last words are uttered with a curved lip,
“This is the last time I take a chance on you.”
Misunderstanding clouds the air—
He was the pawn in this game,
But I am not the maker of this cruel fate.
He was after me since the start and I knew,
And he fell right into my unfolding plan.
I was not the first to use him;
He was bound from the start,
Like a puppet whose strings surpass this nation.
I should’ve known from the very first quip,
From those soulless eyes painted glaucous blue.
I never thought someone like me could care—
Maybe because of the nature of my name,
Or these thousand years I’ve lain in wait.
You’re kind though impulsive aggression may misconstrue;
I’ve heard the tremble behind that deadpan.
Truly, I had anticipated an ideal partner’s antonym,
But as you deceived me I still saw your heart.
Fascinating contradictions yet spurred my fixation.
Despite status as an emissary of a different mistress,
You soon showed undying fealty just to me.
There are many kinds of worship I have perceived,
But your hands to hold are the sweetest offering.
We are so different, you and I—
Me, steady as a stone never to relocate,
And you, like a spring’s water flowing forwards.
We share a passion against undeserved wrongs,
But perhaps my senses have dulled while yours
Have sharpened too far into mercilessness.
They say no safe stake is worth the game’s distress.
This wager will attest ideally,
But if you remain inconsolably aggrieved,
I cannot show myself faltering.
I’ll have endless time without you to revive,
But as all is revealed I shake with treacherous heart rate.
Our eyes lock, amber and storm. There are no words.
Already I miss the lyrics to our collapsing songs,
And lament how I will stop being yours.
Perhaps this is purposelessness.
“This is the last time I take a chance on you.”
The words sting like winter’s icy fingers,
And I know only time can heal me now.
Turning to leave with eyes downcast,
I cannot drown in these tears like I drowned in you.
A gasp breaks the silence, and breath thickens.
Whose sounds are those? They cannot be mine.
Maybe these stakes were raised to the sun,
And I fell as if my feathers were linked with wax.
After all, stones can crumble and leave only dust.
A warmth upon my cheek, sight gone mischievous blue.
Maybe pain will subside if this delusion lingers.
But no—I face you again somehow—
“I said this chance will be the last.”
CROSSING THE THRESHOLD.
Lauren Bellamy (10/15/21)
I can’t sleep.
The suburb is asleep.
My family’s sleep.
Their snores don’t keep me awake,
Yet something keeps my dreams at bay.
It’s eleven thirty at night.
I can’t sleep.
I sit here and think.
I sit idly by, thinking I should be doing something.
I should, but I don’t. I won’t.
It’s not that I can’t, but I don’t know.
Something is keeping me awake.
Is it the dread of what’s coming?
Is it the dread of not knowing what’s coming?
Is it just my mind messing with me like
it always does at this time of night?
I sit. Sit, sit, sit still. Yet awake.
My thoughts are running rampant.
My fingers tapping away at another story,
another possibility,
another life.
Some crazy fantasy.
I know it sounds strange,
but here I am, awake when I should be sleep.
Maybe I had that coffee too late,
or maybe I’m filled with anticipation of not knowing.
But then I tell myself that’s stupid, random, insane.
Though here I am, still awake.
My eyes are starting to slow down,
The drowsiness fills them slowly.
I’m getting tired, yet I persist with this
strange phenomenon of knowing I’m sleepy,
but putting it off because of…
What?
I don’t know. I don’t know at all.
But here I am, sleepy.
What can it be?
My thoughts are muddled with thoughts.
Stressed about nothing and everything.
Filled with regret, anxiety, frustration.
And yet, here I am, writing at 11:30 at night,
and not understanding why.
MASKLOPHOBIA
Jamie C. Hill (10/15/21)
Cloth covers your body.
Plastic covers your head.
I thought
I had gotten used to it—
the inability to spot your face.
I thought
I had gotten used to it—
the inability to watch you smile.
I thought
I had gotten used to it—
the inability to view your pain.
If I had,
maybe I would’ve understood
that we weren’t meant to be.
If I had,
maybe I would’ve noticed your suffering
as you took your last breath.
If I had,
maybe I wouldn’t have been the one
who took it away from you.
Cloth covers your body.
Plastic covers your head.
OF POMEGRANATES AND PERNICIOUSNESS
Elizabeth (9/10/21)
They call me Spring and gift me roses,
Those who believe I am foolish and need to be protected.
I am a lonesome spotlight but I crave the darkness.
I have a little box packed for the end of the world—
In its depths, pomegranate seeds shine
Like the chilling stretch of skin over a skeletal face.
I hope that even when this is all over,
They won’t be able to take me from you.
You.
That tenebrosity I so desire.
I am not a maiden in distress,
But for you I will always let myself be stolen.
Take me away from this luminance
And let me succumb to obscurity.
Be the weight that pulls me down from this pillar,
Away from this dais I was born onto.
My mother threatens to uproot the soil of our nation.
My father rains down torrents from storm clouds bruised.
Should I be upset that the world may be turned upside down
When I can finally sow my own crop
And when I finally lack that metallic taste in my back teeth?
I know I should chastise your selfish acts,
But it turns out I am selfish too.
I am willing to sacrifice everything for this cruel desire.
In truth, I wasn’t even drawn to you.
You represent everything I was taught to hate,
And so I thusly accepted my disgust.
But then you showed me risk for the first time—
Yanked me down but then let me free-fall.
And I loved that seductive suicide:
The death of myself as I knew her.
You were not my lover, but my enabler.
Before I knew it we fell into a rhythm
As natural as seasons’ fluctuation.
It may be Stockholm Syndrome’s whisper,
But is it possible I can love you?
Can I associate this attraction I feel to the void
With the lovely sonority of your voice?
Even as summer’s hand crept in to pull my chin to sun,
My eyes were yet downcast.
One hand above ground and one hand below-
A seed tightly compressed in between our clasped hold
As we said a treacherous goodbye.
A wink from obsidian-carved lashes,
Lashes so deep I could feel them on my cheeks
Even in our non-embrace.
This game that we play,
At what point does it end?
I want it to end
Like the shadowy corridors of your home.
Nonexistent existence.
A secret enclosed within two strong walls,
Because that is how I identify now.
I am not longer the little girl cradling her bouquet—
I am a woman bearing bittersweet fruit,
A cypress. A temptress.
I have already set my priorities.
Not my mother, nor my father.
Maybe this murky path has always led to you.
This little box grows heavier
As I find myself being sucked into it.
As many red teardrops as those whom I betrayed
Are etched into my waiting parchment.
The inkiness I sought encompasses my sight.
We fit together as anticipated: a fated puzzle.
You pull me down and I lift you up,
And yet together we can withstand this storm.
ANXIETY
Lauren Bellamy (9/10/21)
Why do I always let you in?
You screw with my mind,
All the darn time,
Yet, here you are knocking like you’re my friend.
I pray day and night,
Trying to get you out of my head.
But like an annoying crumb of bread,
You never stray far from sight.
You’re a nuisance with a purpose.
You cause me to worry,
Make my vision and focus blurry,
Just to make me feel unsure and nervous.
And I sit here and think,
Will I ever be free?
NOSTOPHOBIA
Jamie C. Hill (9/10/21)
running don’t stop running because if you do then it’ll catch up to you so you have to
keep going you can’t think you can’t look back you can’t stop moving it won’t
stop chasing you can never escape it won’t leave you alone
it just keeps you have to go you have to go
you have to you have to
you have to
PLEASE GET VACCINATED
Vaishnavi Srirama (8/6/2021)
How is it possible?
Last year I was so happy
To end my senior year strong.
And it was taken away from me.
But I had hope.
For my country.
For its citizens.
That by the summer, things would get better.
I clung to it.
But my freshman year of college...
That was taken from me too.
But I had hope.
For the vaccine was finally out.
And I hoped people would take it.
Then why didn’t they?
Why did people think it would track us?
Why did they say it wouldn’t help?
Why?
Now we’re hit again.
With something even worse.
And people still do not care.
Reckless, careless, unknowing,
To the danger that lies ahead.
And I have no hope.
My sophomore year will be ruined too,
I have only done the right thing.
But the actions of others,
Have made me forget the flow of time.
I’ve lost all hope.
For my country.
For all its citizens.
NEOPHOBIA
Jamie C. Hill (8/6/2021)
News.
You can’t stand the news,
But you can’t help but become consumed by it.
Those bold words at the bottom of the screen first catch your eye.
What?!
You have to hear the rest:
FIXATED ON THE MOVING LIPS OF REPORTERS,
YOU OBSESS OVER THEIR EVERY WORD.
BUT YOUR EAR IS BOUND TO GET CLOGGED,
AND YOUR VISION IS BOUND TO GET FOGGED.
NOTHING IS CLEAR TO YOU ANYMORE
EXCEPT FEAR.
FROM THE NEWS COMES FEAR,
AND FROM FEAR COMES THE NEWS.
YOU CAN’T ESCAPE FROM THE NEWS.
YOU CAN’T ESCAPE FROM THAT WHICH ALWAYS CHANGES.
SO WHAT DO YOU DO?
YOU REJECT REASON.
YOU FALL VICTIM TO HYPERBOLE.
YOU EVEN SPREAD IT.
YOU ONLY BELIEVE IN YOURSELF.
BUT YOU WON’T BELIEVE IN CHANGE,
SO YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND THE NEWS.
DEPRESSION
Vaishnavi Srirama (8/6/2021)
tap tap tap
Are you doing okay?
I just wanted to check in,
And make sure you can still smile.
Can I come in?
I haven’t seen you in a while.
I’ll stop by for a few days,
And give you some company.
I know, after then,
You’ll be okay.
Yes, you will be okay.
Knock Knock Knock
I’m coming in.
I feel your weakness,
And your strength too.
Here, look at the mirror.
Look at you!
You’re amazing
And wonderful
And great.
I’ll stay for a month,
And then you’ll be okay.
Yes, you’ll be okay.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
I’m back again.
I just let myself in this time.
I’m getting a little tired of this.
What is wrong with you?
Can’t keep doing this for you.
What is this?
Why are you still in bed?
And what’s that smell?
Let me clean up.
I have to do everything around here.
I’ll leave in a year.
Crash! Clang! Boom!
What did I tell you?
You’re not making this easy.
I have to move in now.
Tell you what to do.
How to live your life.
You’re ruining me.
From the inside out.
You’re hopeless, you see?
You need me, my dear.
It’s okay.
I’m here now.
I’ll help you.
You need me, my dear.
Oh, you poor thing.
You are just hopeless.
WHEN WE WERE KIDS
Lauren Bellamy (8/6/2021)
when we were kids,
we wished for adulthood...
to be able to drive to our hearts’ content...
do what we want when we want to.
when we were kids,
we saw things on a surface level.
we just knew what we wanted,
and since we didn’t know the consequences,
we didn’t care about the implications.
when we were kids,
we loved everyone without a second thought.
we lived as if we were invincible.
we ran, jumped, laughed and did everything else in between.
because we were kids.
But now…
We can’t live ignorantly.
Because the world isn’t black and white.
There are too many what ifs to be asked,
And too many inequalities to ignore.
Now, we have responsibilities.
Personal responsibilities as well as relational ones.
We have to take control instead of relying on our parents.
Now, even though we may not like it,
We have to step up.
We still need to love all,
But also fight for what’s right because of that love.
We can’t stop now because it gets too hard.
We can’t sit idle and let these injustices stand.
We have to have each other’s backs.
Just like when we were kids.
KITE ON THE HIGHER BLUE
Elizabeth S. (8/6/2021)
Chose not to walk that evening,
All alone on the silk sand with
An endless sky.
Chin tilted down, daydreaming,
Lost in rhyme and myth,
And waves painted dry…
There arose a pathetic sight—
Silhouetted against the light,
On the canvas like a blight—
A lone kite.
I made a clenched grasp of emptiness
And almost unready readiness,
Feeling pierced by hope lost in distance
And resistance to inexistence.
The worst thought did also arise:
With the one who did the losing
Whom I shared this bleakness,
After witnessing with our eyes
The squarish shape on the sky bruising—
This is perhaps one of many small secrets.
Perhaps some unknown decree—
Only for few to see,
Like a forested, changing tree—
It exists fleetingly.
As if pulled by one gliding across the ocean,
That kite never stopped forward motion;
Unflinchingly facing its own demise,
It left to haunt all unseeing eyes.
Presumably it did soon fall,
But some secrets are unbeknownst to all.
Just maybe it can be true
That the wind’s power only grew,
And that the kite soared and flew;
That it only knew the higher blue.
(Author’s Note: This poem is about a kite I saw over the ocean at the beach. Nobody else around me saw it, so I thought it was interesting that the kite’s owner and I shared this sort of “secret.” I watched the kite fly across the ocean, but even as it faded to a dot on the horizon, it still stayed consistent on the wind. Maybe stuff like this happens all the time, just little, forgettable occurrences shared by few witnesses. For us, these experiences last at most a few seconds, but that kite was made for a purpose. Once it loses the fight to stay afloat, does that mean it doesn’t exist anymore? I’d like to think that the kite will never drop. Maybe, with no eyes on it, something miraculous could happen; maybe the kite will remain in the air.)
SUMMER IS FOR LIBERATION
Jamie C. Hill (7/9/21)
The radiance of a thousand suns
is a beauty to be beheld,
but it is destined to ignite
the flames simmering
beneath the surface.
They have been waiting
each
agonizing
second
for the suns
to shine down upon us
and set the world ablaze.
The inflammable
believe they will be unaffected,
but you must understand:
This radiance will penetrate
every being,
every object of this earth.
If you do not consume the fires,
they will cremate you instead.
Can you withstand such an inferno?
I GUESS THIS IS IT, THEN
Elizabeth Shull (7/9/21)
Time is a fleeting, bleeding thing.
You stack it up neatly but it comes down crumbling—
No matter how carefully you grace it and praise it,
Those two hands just murder and never acquit.
Healing is a never-ending trial.
Even when it’s silent, you’re still in denial.
It’s a waiting-game to see how long we last;
We’ve waited so long, present and past…
Mentality’s not what it’s cracked up to be—
All the best people are crazy, you see.
Let go of your reason, just throw it away.
Is this how we’re meant to live, anyway?
Sanity is not the quiet jewel in your crown—
It’s splitting, spitting, sputtering all the way down.
The last flame of hope that wavers in triumph
But dies away quickly when the going gets tough…
And it’s tough.
What ties me to this body anyways?
When someone says that I’m strong,
Have I not been all along?
Losing it all with nothing to lose…
This resolve’s giving in with all the overuse…
TWO YEARS LATER...
Anonymous (7/9/21)
I wish I fell in love with myself two years ago.
Back when I didn’t have the scars I do today.
The ones that won’t go away.
I wish I fell in love with myself
back when I looked in the mirror
and didn’t feel the need to turn away.
Now I sit and think about,
how unsatisfied I was then.
But at least she didn’t have the scars,
the ones that won’t go away.
At least she didn’t have to think about
the sleeves of every shirt she wanted to buy,
and whether it covered her insecurities.
And how it takes 5-6 drops of foundation
To hide the spots on her face.
And how she would grow up to count them every night
to see if they went away
to see if her 6 medications were working
to see if she should smile that day.
How naïve she was.
She didn’t know how much would change.
She didn’t have to think about
clothes, makeup, or love.
I wish I fell in love with myself
back when I had the chance.
Because now I know I can’t.
I’ll always wish I looked like
the one who stared back at me
in the mirror two years ago.
PEOPLE PLEASER
Lauren Bellamy (7/9/2021)
Are you okay?
It’s okay if you don’t agree with me.
I get that I can be a little over attentive,
But as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.
Are you okay?
Yeah, I’m totally okay,
As long as you are.
I just want to make sure you’re satisfied.
Are you okay?
Why do you keep asking that?
Do you need anything?
I can get that for you,
Though it may take me a while.
I’ve been kind of slow lately.
Are you okay?
I guess I am.
How are you?
I hope you’re doing well.
Are you okay?
Seriously, why do you keep asking?
I’ll be fine.
I just don’t want to argue that’s it.
But are you happy?
...I don’t know.
PARALIPOPHOBIA
Jamie C. Hill (6/11/21)
You wake up.
You turn on your phone.
You unlock it.
You glance at your texts.
There aren’t any.
You check your emails.
Your advisor sent a list of classes and opportunities that are available a few minutes ago. You are already in summer classes. You have multiple leadership roles and intern in multiple departments. You like one opportunity, though. You note it on a sticky.
Your supervisor sent one an hour earlier. They’re replying to the chain of a certain issue the team has been having. They want you to look more into it. You will reply later.
You see newsletters and updates from different sites. You don’t care.
You scroll through social media.
You check your friends’ stories. You see a current event. You haven’t seen it in other people’s stories. So you share it to spread awareness. You bookmark it to read more about later. You see a virtual event. You bookmark it. You set it in your calendar if it looks especially interesting.
You scroll down your timeline. You see more awareness posts. You bookmark them to read later. You see funny jokes. You like them. You see deaths more. You don’t feel good. You keep scrolling. You see politics. You are annoyed. You keep scrolling.
You turn on your computer.
You haven’t gotten out of bed. You have a meeting in an hour. Then another one. And another one. You have a lecture to watch. You have assignments to finish before 11:59pm. You need to reply to your supervisor. You have to do research.
You need to take a break.
But you can’t.
So you don’t.
INSOMNIA
Vaishnavi Srirama (6/11/21)
There are too many thoughts in my head
Too many monsters
Trying to grab me from underneath my bed.
If I move, they’ll know I’m here.
I can’t move.
No water then. No food either.
Too many voices
Screaming at me when I close my eyes.
Too many hands
Reaching out to me when I glance
At the Other Side of the mirror.
My room isn’t mine.
I can’t recognize it anymore.
The faint glow of whatever that thing is...
It’s not calming.
The walls are closing in on me.
And I’m getting smaller every second.
I’ve been thinking about today’s events to pass the time.
There was that time I tripped over nothing on the sidewalk
That time I had a long pause in my sentence
While talking to my friend.
So embarrassing…
I don’t think I’ll go out anymore.
Should I apologize?
Would that be weird?
The walls are inches away from my face now.
If I reach out, I could feel the smooth surface
Lavender purple, I painted it when I was 13
…13…
I’m so old now.
Maybe that’s why my parents don’t talk to me much anymore
Do they want me to be independent?
No.
Yes?
Do my parents hate me?
The walls are touching my cheek now.
Pressing against the sides of my body.
I wonder what my brother is doing right now.
I wonder why he doesn’t talk to me.
Does EVERYONE in my family hate me??
Am I the problem?
I can’t sleep.
WE’RE NOT REALLY STRANGERS
Vaishnavi Srirama (5/14/21)
We’re not really strangers
You and me?
We’re not all that different.
We gaze upon the same stars
Walk on the same grass
Look up at the same moon.
We are all connected in a way
You and me.
To each other
Through the Earth
And through the waves.
So we’re not really strangers
You and me.
I feel I know you well
You can open up to me.
We’re connected through the vines
That sprawl across the trees.
And the bright blue sky
A raceway up above.
Connected through the sun
Behind the orange clouds.
And through the yellow flower
Smiling at us there.
We’re not really strangers
You and me.
MY POWER, YOUR DESIRE
Jamie C. Hill (4/9/21)
You desire me.
You detest me, but you desire me.
Every feature that adorns me you despise.
Every trait that distinguishes me you abhor.
Every piece that forms me you revile.
Still you desire them and you desire me.
Why do you desire me?
Because you know my power
And you desperately want to control it.
You want to shape me into your tool
Until I am no longer usable.
You want to shrink me into your fool
Until I am no longer diminishable.
By doing so I will no longer be powerful.
And then I will be disposable.
I know you desire me.
I know you desire the power I hold.
The power that is:
All the features you despise,
All the traits you abhor,
All the pieces you revile.
I know you detest me.
Why do you detest me?
Because you can’t contain me.
***
Me deseas.
Me detestas, pero me deseas.
Cada característica que me adorna tu desprecias.
Cada rasgo que me distingue tu aborreces.
Cada pieza que me forma tu injurias.
Todavía los deseas y me deseas.
¿Por qué me deseas?
Porque conoces mi poder
Y desesperadamente quieres controlarlo.
Quieres moldearme en tu herramienta
Hasta ya no soy utilizable.
Quieres encogerme en la tonta
Hasta ya no soy comprimible.
Con esto ya no seré poderosa.
Y luego seré desechable.
Yo sé que me deseas.
Yo sé que deseas el poder que tengo.
El poder que es:
Todas características tú desprecias,
Todos rasgos tú aborreces,
Todas piezas tú injurias.
Yo sé que me detestas.
¿Por qué me detestas?
Porque no me contienes.
EYE OF THE BEHOLDER
Vaishnavi Srirama (4/9/21)
I remember where the dark oak grows high
Shadowing everything underneath.
Where the murky water lays
Buzzing with insects and fear.
Where it is always night
And you can hear the tiger’s rumble
And the cries of dead souls
And the footsteps of something behind you…
Now all I see
Are bright green trees,
Letting warm sunlight flitter through.
The inviting sounds
Coming from the forest lake.
Where time does not pass,
And the vibrant flowers throughout
And the soft grass under my toes
And the deer standing ahead…
Why have I never realized
The beauty of the forest behind?
Why have I never realized…?
BEFORE THEY ALMOST BROKE ME
Vaishnavi Srirama (4/9/2021)
For as long as I can remember
I was in their hands.
My beauty was defined by them.
My clothing,
The way my hair was styled,
Everything
Was defined by them.
For as long as I remember,
I could not recognize,
the girl who started back at me
When I gazed into the mirror.
I was hanging from the strings
They pulled to make me move.
I was walking in the path they made me,
Because I was too scared to step away.
For as long as I remember,
I let them control my life,
And only now I’ve begun to realize
That I’ve been living in fear
Of them hating me
For who I was.
But it shouldn’t matter.
They shouldn’t care.
How I dress
How I look
How I live
Is up to me.
Not them.
For as long as I remember,
I let them control my life.
But only now I’ve begun to realize
I am beautiful without them.
NO REASON
Lauren Bellamy (4/9/21)
There was an idea to create a world
A diverse world full of all kinds of life
Whether it was humanity,
The environment...
Animals…
Just a world full of beauty
But once that world was created,
The original vision was thwarted;
Mainly by the people who inhabited
The brand new, diverse world.
All simply because of a false idea.
An abominable imagination.
To separate people into boxes
To an unhealthy point of division.
All for no reason at all.
That world is what the world is today.
Not everyone agrees with this,
But the select few who do
Have caused so much strife and hate
All for no reason at all.
Have you ever thought about that?
Where did this hatred come from?
Where did this strife come from?
Why did the want for unjustified levels of hierarchy
Threaten the original threads in which this world was made?
All for no reason at all.
We are beautiful creatures inside and out.
We move around in this continuous cycle of life
And when it’s over, we hope to get to some sort of an afterlife.
But because of the creatures who aren’t happy
The creatures who don’t want diversity
The creatures that don’t see the beauty in this world
All for no reason at all.
That cycle is tarnished by bloodshed.
By hate.
By strife.
By insanity
By cruelty.
All for no reason at all.
But where do we go from here?
We can’t continue to keep turning a blind eye
To the diversity that makes our world beautiful.
We need to fight for inclusion
Instead of settling for exclusion.
We all need to love our fellow creatures.
Our fellow people;
Our Black, Asian, and Indigenous siblings
Our Latine and Caucasian siblings.
We need to love the animals that roam the earth
Whether they’re mammals, fish, amphibians, reptiles or birds
Or even the tiniest insects that may terrify us when walking down the street
Or the little crabs down by the sea
We need to love the atmosphere,
The crisp, clear air
The beautiful baby blue sky.
The feather-like, fluffy clouds.
Loving everything is all we need to make our world beautiful.
INDEPENDENT WOMAN
Lauren Bellamy (3/12/21)
I am an independent woman,
I do not allow others to tell me what to be
Or allow them to tell me what to do.
I am an independent woman.
I live my life freely.
I live my life happily.
I am an independent woman.
I wear what I feel comfortable in;
I’m comfortable in myself.
I am an independent woman.
I say no when I want to,
And I say yes, when I feel like it.
I am an independent woman.
I believe in me.
I believe in my friends.
I am an independent woman.
Because I make my own spot at the table.
Because I stand up for myself.
Because I will never allow a man to have control over me.
I am an independent woman.
Because there’s nothing else I would want to be.
THANK YOU, DAD
Vaishnavi Srirama (3/12/21)
…For all the late nights
When you were up,
Until the sun rays showed
Their face to the world.
And for all the lost sleep,
You had to endure.
Working…
…...working…..
……….working…..
……………working……..
.Working until
You couldn’t anymore.
For all the hugs
Which you gave me.
When I was down, irritable, and moody.
And for all the stories,
That put me to bed
All those years ago.
For all the love,
For all the laughter,
For all the sacrifice.
I will never be able to pay you back.
I hope you know,
That I am grateful,
I am thankful,
And I am proud.
To call myself your daughter,
That title, I will not hide.
So thank you, Dad,
For everything.
For the ambition,
For the drive.
Thank you, Dad.
For simply being,
The most phenomenal guy I know.
Thank you,
Dad.
CHRONOPHOBIA
Jamie Hill (3/12/21)
your hands spin
and spin
and spin
there is no battery operating them
no battery that will ever drain
so your hands spin eternally
and my hands spin ephemerally
there is a battery operating them
with each ephemeral spin
my battery drains
and drains
and drains
i envy your eternal spins
though they have passed the same point so many times
they will always run at the same pace
mine desperately try to imitate their endurance
but they just can’t catch up
my hands slow
and slow
and slow
so your hands eventually pass
and ultimately
my battery drains
THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA AND THE CRESTS OF MOUNTAINS
Elizabeth Shull (3/12/21)
Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning,
Gasping for air underneath growing pressure,
Waiting for an upcurrent that will never come.
Perhaps if I sink to the bottom I will encounter
Other creatures of the sea who are igniting
And fiercely fighting the urge to succumb.
When my head touches submerged sand,
And I weep for those on land,
Perhaps a ray of sun may grace my cheek.
A treasure to one who does not seek,
Whose heart torrential havoc wreaks,
Into these depths salt tears will not leak.
That brilliance of an outstretched hand
Presents the possibility to understand.
Maybe that upcurrent will stray away,
And that hand reaching out was mine,
Propelling towards the cresting waves.
An inner drive is hard to define;
It’s the primal need to see change of day,
Or the radiant path ahead the light paves.
And when my lungs fill with air,
And I struggle with my harsh despair,
Perhaps I will recall my time in the deep.
A broken spirit far down I’ll keep,
But whose heavy burden I’ll put to sleep--
I will accept that I can finally leap.
The past may leave scars irrevocable,
But my metamorphosis has always been inevitable.
After all, the weathering of rocks on land
Creates the foundation on which we stand.
All the world’s past lies beneath our feet,
Resting, resurfacing, preparing to repeat.
The sea takes everything in its reach,
But the crests of mountains remain unbreeched.
BLINDNESS
Vaishnavi Srirama (3/12/21)
I realize only now
How blind I have been in the past.
People are dying.
The environment is beyond repair.
Humanity has failed the world.
But I want to believe
In hope.
In us.
We have started to change
Make small steps to a better future.
The optimist in me tells me to believe.
Believe.
Believe.
Sometimes,
Only darkness
Can be the catalyst
To the brightest light
Within.
SOMNIPHOBIA
Jamie C. Hill
(2/1/21)
“keep working,”
you urge yourself.
maybe if you stay busy
then you can beat it
but you should know
that this opponent always wins.
of course you know,
you’ve lost every time.
even when you fill your house with lights
even when you max out your headphone volume
even when you read your enticing little stories page after page
you always lose.
and this time is no different.
anxiety rises
in your heart a racing thump
in your hands a trembling sweat
in your head a ruminating panic
The monster that is your mind
will devour you
don’t fall asleep
don’t fall
don’t fall…
don’t...
fall...
UNREQUITED
Lauren Bellamy
(2/1/21)
roses are red,
violets are blue,
i still go to bed
thinking of you
it’s a strange tread
dreaming of you
because i misread
my chats with you
your voice in my head
your face in my mind’s view
my feelings go unsaid
so no trouble ensues
WINTER BORN
Lauren Bellamy
(2/1/21)
born in the stark cold, weather
on the usual last day of february
soon after coming out of the womb
not quite light as a feather
the world was not young
plenty of trouble
full of contradictions
hopefully the child’s life wouldn’t go wrong
there was a lot of love that surrounded her
more than the world knew
a tender hug and a gentle kiss
the kind of love a child can’t infer
the love outweighed the worries
the love outweighed the turmoil
the love guaranteed the necessities
because that’s what true love is
I LOVE YOU, FRIEND
Vaishnavi Srirama
(2/1/21)
Make me laugh like night will never end,
Make me smile, make me dance.
Make my heart leap with joy.
Make my heartache go away,
With your knowing care and comfort.
Let me listen to your singing
As it soothes my worries away.
At the end of the day,
The simplest answer is you.
I Love You, Friend.
LOVE IS TRUE
Lauren Bellamy (Dec. 2020 / Jan. 2021)
i’ve known love
not the romantic kind
but the familial kind
the friendly kind
but there are some days
i truly wonder what that fantasy
of true love is an a romantic sense
having someone
having a person
having a partner
imagine that
the funny thing is i don’t reflect on it much
but sometimes, my mind wanders
into a dream
sometimes into a nightmare
i laugh as i reflect and digress
but then the thought pops back up
in my mind full of curiosity
someone loving me the way i love them
a passion
a fire
a comforting pain
a smile creeps on my face
my mom tells me to wait
and i do, as i have
because i know that, one day,
true love won’t seem like fantasy anymore.
A COLLECTION OF HAIKUS
Lauren Bellamy (Dec. 2020 / Jan. 2021)
First Love
First love’s a strange thing:
Another happiness comes,
That love fades away.
Music
That first rhythm plays,
All the notes, toe-tapping beats,
Start one symphony
Friends
Some friends stay awhile,
Others stay for a moment,
And some forever
THINK ABOUT IT
Lauren Bellamy (Dec. 2020 / Jan. 2021)
imagine thinking yourself worthless.
who told you that?
simply because someone was pissed
they tell you that you’re worthless to end the spat
don’t deny your worth
whether you realize it or not
A PASSING VICTORY
Elizabeth S. (Dec. 2020 / Jan. 2021)
You talk a big game but will not pull through,
Lips chapped with the lies you have told.
Maybe one day you will see her
The same way she looks at you.
A steely gaze roots the body, overgrew.
She sits there clenching a heart of gold,
But the same blood smeared with murder
Runs through this girl too.
Grinding the axe against a stone well,
Perhaps in undertone you will hear toll that bell.
A knife lies within her dress, crimson folds.
Unaware of how fast you’ll lose footholds,
The time has come for this fated tryst—
A collision on both assassins’ lists.
Eerily quiet footsteps fall
As the old hand writes in duty’s scrawl.
It is that maiden from many years back,
Broken and defeated with the world on her shoulders,
Now with eyes rimmed in kohl of a raven’s feather.
No recollection alights her transformed visage.
She is here with both types of unknown attack,
Mercy slipped from all its holders.
You persist but her smile is hard leather;
You know you cannot fight her double image.
Grinding the axe against a stone well,
Perhaps in undertone you will hear toll that bell.
A knife lies within her dress, crimson folds.
Unaware of how fast you’ll lose footholds,
The time has come for this fated tryst—
A collision on both assassins’ lists.
Eerily quiet footsteps fall
As the old hand writes in duty’s scrawl.
She slices your heart in one quick motion!
Taught not to flinch, but you still shudder
As more than just bones are set on display.
Never trust a girl whom love has denied.
Red flushing out with the depth of the ocean,
Quiet as a butterfly’s wings aflutter,
She leans in and marks victory on this day:
“Never again will love thieve my pride.”
And from whence she came she sped out of sight,
Never again to live in the light.
Remembering her deceased love’s last breath,
She laid marked from hope and cursed through death.
ALETHOPHOBIA
Jamie C. Hill (Dec. 2020 / Jan. 2021)
how do you lie in this darkness?
do you squeeze your eyes shut to avoid the uncertainty within its blanket
that may cover a myriad of hostile creatures
creatures with a purpose never to be known on this plane
this plane of existence fostering not the pursuit to omniscience
but the fear of awakening?
or do you bask in the comfort of an all-encompassing shadow
that obscures your scary view
a view that would reveal the easy solutions to such difficult questions
solutions withholding a dangerous truth not behind the problem
but behind your own identity?
is that what you truly fear?
a revelation that may pierce the veil of darkness
and subsequently your spirit
will forever linger beyond the blackest corners?
truth does not appear as an unobstructed line of sight;
it shows as the unfounded monster in your closet,
the unexplained creak of your door,
and the spotty guesses of a figure
coming closer
and closer...
until you retreat into your own blanket of false security.
POWER IN GENEROSITY
Suhayla A. (Dec. 2020 / Jan. 2021)
If I could feed every empty belly,
I would not hesitate.
If I could heal every broken bone,
I would work tirelessly.
If I could put every wandering soul into a home,
I would build, brick by brick.
These are all things I tell myself.
If I had the power, I would make the world better.
But I see people with that power doing nothing.
I wonder, would I really use my power for good?
Or would I hoard it, consumed by my own greed?
Would I watch people go hungry,
And still want to waste the piles of food I have for myself?
Would I watch people die,
And feel joy knowing that I have the best facilities to stay alive?
Would I watch people sleep on the side of the road,
And still come back home to my warm bed,
Without a second thought?
I fear that if I had the power,
I’d choose greed over generosity,
Because that is always the path
Those with the highest power choose.
Author’s Note: I wrote this poem with the richest people in the world in mind. These people have so much power, but I’ve rarely seen them use it for good. Rather, I’ve seen them use it for their own gain, whether it be through exploiting workers or through not donating.
PROGRESSION OF SELF-LOVE
Jamie C. Hill (11/30/20)
Acceptance
I am still, I am life,
as I am tempestal. as I am death.
I am ephemeral, I am chaos,
as I am eternal. as I am order.
I am present, I am minimal,
as I am absent. as I am maximal.
I am blessèd, I am molecular,
as I am cursèd. as I am galactical.
I am spirit, I am drained,
as I am body. as I am fulfilled.
I am human, I am Nothing,
as I am god. as I am Everything.
Appreciation
Your skin stands with extensive shades of brown
It glows like crystal gold under the sun’s warm gaze
Though a dark shadow is cast around your own eyes
And discolored rays streak across the curves of your hips
You love them all equally
Your mind powers with thoughts unique to the world
It races like Olympic athletes on a 400 meter track
Though electrical feet grow exhausted by the pavement
And weak muscles easily tire from running step by step
You love them all equally
Your spirit sings with meaning of its foundation
It rumbles like a soulful storm amidst July days
Though lightning strikes are overwhelmed by internal thunder
And little fruit is bred from showering rain
You love them all equally
Action
Cry it out Breathe it in Possess your Self
Laugh it out Soothe it in Encrust your Self
Write it out Weave it in Express your Self
Pass it out Use it in and Love your Self
THE LAUGHING WIND
Elizabeth Shull (11/30/20)
It laughs at me and pulls my hair, that bully called the wind,
The same that tickles trees until they tremble and give in.
That two-sided beast with personality issues,
With tempers calm or vengeful: menace or muse.
That force who cajoles the grass to fight, blade slapping blade,
Who stalks and bellows through cities, known to pillage and raid.
That quiet blessing who broadly fills the sails of halted ships,
Or bends over to tenderly kiss a newborn’s fingertips.
It wants to be sweet but can’t abandon old habits;
Its compassion is masked by faults multiplied like rabbits.
You know it’s fearful of its power since it looks for help worldwide;
You hear it echo thoughts of trapped souls too lonely to hide.
You’ve seen it at its kindest and at its most destructive,
You’ve seen it push you away and had it lure you in, seductive.
By the time you’ve finally noticed the wind’s complex affection,
It’s disheartened and doesn’t look back as it assumes dejection.
Every time you search for it to deal with the skeletons in its closet,
Your fingers slip through the air, and its location you can only posit.
Looking back, you simply ask, “Have you seen the wind today?”
And just the crackling, cackling leaves can trace the wind slipping away.
AUTUMN DAYS
Suhayla A. (11/30/20)
Alluring browns, vibrant reds, fiery oranges
They sway all around the grand tree
Winds swirl through me and pick me up
As the colors flash before my eyes
The beauty of an autumn day.
Yet I remember the hot summer days
How they came and went
The sun beating down on my skin
When everything had bloomed
To their full potential.
I picture the deadbeat winter,
A cold time to come,
When darkness overcomes
And the once grand tree
Displays its bare limbs.
Autumn’s exquisiteness
Lulls me under a pretense
That beauty is permanent
And ceases to have faults.
But as winter comes
Every being must hide away
For a true state of security
And for their survival.
Autumn days, your beauty
Will not go unnoticed by many
But your false sense of security
Will not go unnoticed by me.
WHERE I'M FROM
Lauren Bellamy (11/30/20)
I am from the old, woolen blankets,
from my grandmother’s wooden bed.
I am from the suburbs of east end Henrico,
and the country-side of Loris, South Carolina,
from Shirley and David, Bertha and William.
I am from the patches of Blue Magic and the hot comb,
and the early mornings and hot weather of the summer
in the country.
I’m from my mom’s traditional mac and cheese
and the collard greens that took a long time to pick.
I’m from the old hymnal with songs
that my grandmothers taught my parents to teach us.
I’m from Willene and Terry,
And their love and their dedication.
I’m from our games of Bingo and fun inside jokes.
I’m from the traditional sounds of Motown,
and the classic sound of “This Christmas”.
From the new old blue house on Silvertail,
And the multitude of trips to Disney.
From the dark brown, thick, curly hair,
and the dark brown eyes of Bellamy.
All around the house, under the cocktail table,
lies the photo albums, filled with old and new
memories from my childhood and before.
I am from these snippets, mementos,
from the euphoria and the nightmares.
The triumphs and tribulations of my whole
family’s existence.
Poet’s Note: This poem was one of the first assignments that I did in our November Woman of the Month, Dr. Naughton’s class, and it is modeled after a poem of the same title by George Ella Lyon.
Terms to know:
Blue Magic: Grease that is used to smooth down hair usually when straightening it or to moisturize it.
Hot comb: Tool that could be heated by a stove or electrically in order to straighten hair.
Motown: Black-owned record label that featured artists like The Supremes, Tammi Terrell and Gladys Knight.
“This Christmas”: Song written by Donny Hathaway, a Black musician, and is a classic Christmas song in the Black community.
O AUTUMN RAIN
Jamie C. Hill (10/30/20)
O autumn rain, don’t you see?
Your solemn song won’t leave me be
Incessant drip against the breeze
Never fails to make me shriek
O autumn rain, can’t you feel?
No one needs your useless spiel
Your intentions may be meant to heal
But in the end they only kill
O autumn rain, don’t you think?
How ignoble is your transpicuous ink
Though flowers use you for a drink
Only weeds flourish from your sink
O autumn rain, can’t you sense?
This air grows ever so dense
Taunting my eyes with torturous tints
Offers such a cruel offense
O autumn rain, don’t you know?
I can’t stand this seed you sow
Yet I’ll never impede your flow
So farewell, it’s my time to go.
YOUR STORY
Lauren Bellamy (10/30/20)
How do you tell a story?
Do you create characters that resemble real-life people?
Do you have a villain or hero in your life?
Do you tell fiction or nonfiction?
How do you tell a story?
What are you trying to hint at?
Will people understand your intentions?
Do you understand your intentions?
How do you tell a story?
Is there a beginning,
A middle,
An end?
How do you tell a story?
Once upon a time…
The end was the beginning…
There was once a girl with big dreams…
How do you tell a story?
How do you tell your narrative?
How do you write your life?
How do you write your story?
I AM A WOMAN
Mae Rohlk (10/30/20)
I am a woman
Your words mean nothing to me
Do not degrade me
Do not devour the fire in my eyes
Or in my throat
Or on my tongue
I am a woman
Your actions do not faze me
Do not intimidate me
Do not limit my intuition
My femininity
My pride
To your virgin ears of ignorance
I am a woman
To your arrogant demeanor
I am a proud woman
To your doubt, which you have held up so righteously
I am a better person that you will ever be.
Indeed, I am a woman.
DEAR ANXIETY
Jamie C. Hill (10/30/20)
You have convinced me that uncertainty
Was normal under the guise of rationality.
You have heinously sewn my lips shut
As the dwarf did to the trickster rut.
You have suffocated my ambitions
And replaced the bodies with wishes.
You have made me feel like I am degradable
Like I neither was nor am capable.
But I am nothing if not able.
I have forged a path of intention
Unlimited by any dimension.
I have sung over your precise score
To conjure my own precarious lore.
I have extinguished those flames of destiny
And reignited my ardor with liberty.
I have decided that I am higher
That I am the one to be desired.
Thus, I shall leave you to your pyre.
Author’s note: Lines 4-5 allude to Loki’s Wager. In a Nordic myth, the trickster god, Loki, made a bet with the dwarf, Brok, and promised his head if he lost. Well, he did, but he asked them not to take any part of his neck. What ensued was a dilemma among the dwarves about where the head ended and where the neck started. They could never decide, so they instead opted to sew his lips shut because of his clever words.
FACADE
Lauren Bellamy (9/30/2020)
The reality is a facade,
A mirage made of the good things,
The positive things,
The fake things.
The reality is a facade,
A collage of painted smiles,
Coerced congregations,
Silent yet loud statements.
The reality is a facade,
Only those it affects gaze through it,
The ones who affect others,
Are blind to it.
The reality is a facade,
Those who dismiss color don’t see it,
The ones who only view black and white don’t see it,
But the ones with the natural tans and browns do.
The reality has always been a facade
To those who never want to acknowledge their flaws.
POWERFUL
Lauren Bellamy (9/30/2020)
Some people wake up feeling beautiful,
Some wake up feeling mediocre,
Some others wake up feeling pitiful,
Hoping one day it’ll change when they’re older.
Some people see themselves as pretty,
Others see themselves with pity,
There are those who see themselves as queens,
While others believe they are not so pristine.
Some individuals wake up with a smile,
While others wake up with a frown.
There are those who wake up ready to walk down the aisle,
And those who think no one would want to wed a joke or a clown.
All of these ideals are universal,
Some clear as crystal.
Others are more dreary,
Or could provoke fury.
It’s okay to feel,
It’s okay to be in pain,
Just know you are loved,
By at least one person every single day.
WHAT'S IN A LEGACY?
Elizabeth Shull (8/21/20)
People have always told me to “be different,”
But I find that humans are made of contradictions;
I can be a headstrong coward, or outspokenly diffident,
Or someone who frequently switches convictions.
I see those many facets to my personality
But since we define our characters through broad labels,
There are always others who identify the same as me.
Am I still free if bound by associations’ cables?
Every thought in your head has been thought before,
Every fight that you’ve waged has been a lost war.
In a modern world that praises innovation,
Is there truly a way to bring about “creation”?
Or is all we have the hope of being quoted
By future people who only know us by how we’re connoted?
How will my legacy set me apart
If even those alive now don’t know me from the start?
We can only hope that our memory is carried forward
And accept that we made our best effort to “be different.”
Maybe history’s patchwork is not expanded through our every word
But instead by the fact that we’ve been continuously itinerant;
Like the plot of a story you have forged your own arc.
Even if as a person you think you are unoriginal,
It’s in your “plot” and overlaps with others where you left your mark,
Because history is only made through boundaries collisional.
Those contradictions in your personality are similar reassurance--
You will weave your cables, not be left in their durance.
Like a chess game that grows progressively more distinctive,
In time we realize our differences are beautifully restrictive.
Only you can walk the path you’ve chosen.
Even if you have regrets, your past is frozen.
In eternity’s quilt made up by unrepeatable circumstance
We are the seams hand-stitched in expanse.