Page 10 - Horizon 17-18

Horizon 2017
10
Poem 1
Every dawn you whisper to me with tones of joy.
In all seasons you come.
In rains you don’t hesitate, you come singing your daily melodies.
And your whispers a raise my soul.
My bones crack in harmony in hearing you by the window.
The world awakes after you.
You always don’t quit doing what you do.
Neither does complain come to your tiny, tall, and beautiful mouth. During stormy time you keep flying.
Going to a foreign land is not new to you, but you don’t forget you house. You offsprings are filled with joy when you are home.
You are not mean, but you prefer being with your company .
No harm is caused by you.
Everyone sound you make is in harmony with the ears of mankind.
You symbolize peace and gentleness.
Catherine Clement Ladu ’18
Lock and Key
The people enjoy their freedom, even though it is an illusion. The people enjoy their choice, they are living in a delusion. Puppets, they have no idea they are attached to a string.
At their master’s command they work, talk, and sing. Injustice walks among them silently, smiling.
Without regret, it looks around denying
People of dreams, ambitions, life, and goals
All so the masters can control their souls.
Taught to think small, and never to dream big,
Their own graves they unknowingly dig.
Fed by society, lie upon lie,
Every day until the day they die.
Purple streaks across the darkening sky at sunset.
I lay thinking, against the dull colors just a silhouette. They could break free, but they know not how.
Instead, keep working for masters, sweat from their brow. Do they know, understand what is happening?
Of course not, that’s why the masters are laughing.
The truth is hidden, separated from the flock.
Isolated from each other in different cages, different locks. The people accept their fate without a sound.
The key lies in their own pocket, never to be found.
Brian Bowne ’18
Alive
Riley pulled open the door and waited for her heart to stop beating. An eerie stillness overcame her as the pulse stilled in her veins, and she admired the new world which had appeared before her through the crooked frame of the door. Glistening, dew-covered meadows and pastel skies waited for her in the distance. Thin trees, bent like feathers against the summer breeze, beckoned to her, and that was only the beginning. All of this appeared through the door of the abandoned barn. All the peace and serenity she desired, seemingly out of thin air.
“Do you see what I mean?” she said, letting go of the wooden door. She tried turning to face her older brother, but the tall grass beside the barn tangled up beneath her wheelchair.
Spencer looked at her, then the door, and then back again. His eyes were confused, not surprised like Riley had hoped. “I see the inside of an old barn...and some hay.”
Ryley huffed and turned to face the door again. How could Spencer be so blind to the most amazing thing she had ever seen? It was right there, inches from his face. Another world visible through a door in our world. Perhaps Spencer wasn’t looking hard enough. “It’s right there,” she insisted. “Don’t you see the field? And the trees?”
Spencer’s expression was unchanged. “Riley, this is the inside of the barn. I don’t know what you’re looking at-”
“There’s more, Spenc. I don’t know why you can’t see it.”She wheeled forwards toward the door, towards the sunlit meadow beyond. She held her hand through the door, just her hand, and felt the illness drawn right out of her fingertips. It was magic, she concluded. How else could she describe this place that rid her of all the pain that normally plagued her?
Riley looked back at Spencer, who was visibly struggling to understand his little sister. Perhaps it had to be spelled out for him. He would under- stand then. He had to.
“When I go through this door,” Riley whispered, “It takes me to another place. I’m not sick there, Spencer. I’m not hurt.” She looked back to her hand in the door, at the way her fingers danced with the wind. “I’m alive.”
Alyssa Lyzzini ’18
Rewind
I am a tape-
A VHS,
A Cassette.
The video is my day.
When I wake it is played. When I sleep it is rewound. Turn the gears. Fix the film. Hit play.
And it begins all over again.
Emily Kollin ’17