Page 8 - Horizon 18 Online

HORIZON
By Morning
Drip!
It falls
Off my cheek,
Into the river
Of sadness and loss. Splash! It combines
With despair and grief And peacefully floats away. No longer a drop, now a Steady, shimmering stream Of guilt, helplessness, and hurt As they float away, I hope,
I pray, that my mourning Will evaporate by morning. May the dusk hurry on, May the midnight pass by,
It is much to hard
To live without
Those who have
Died.
Sarah Zimmerli ’20
Comfort
I am comfortable and incomplete.
I wonder what will become of me when she leaves. I hear her dreams.
I see her grow as an individual.
I want a chance to sleep.
I am comfortable and incomplete.
I pretend to be silent and unmoving, when in reality I creak and sway. I feel as though I serve a great purpose.
I touch the floor all the way to the ceiling.
I worry that my purpose will soon disappear.
I cry at the thought of being useless.
I am comfortable and incomplete.
I understand that I am needed, for now.
I say nothing, most of the time, I just stand.
I dream of being repurposed once my job is done. Until then, I try to make the best of what I have left.
I hope I am remembered fondly.
I am comfortable and incomplete.
Emily Kmiecik ’18
Nine
I take a lick of the sweet rainbow colored ice cream and wince as the freezing temperature of it engulfs my mouth in ice.
The ice cream melts and the runny multicolor fluid causes my small fingers to stick to the waffle cone, but I don’t mind.
The crunches of the chocolate resound in my head, and the icy confection gets all over my face, but I don’t mind.
How can something so simple make life so much sweeter?
My smile didn’t take a while. I ate the last bit of my cone and sat on my stone steps.
I look at my blue shoes and pay close attention to the dark brown smudges of dirt on their corners,
but I don’t mind.
For the dirt is a plain reminder of happy times.
I think I hear my mom calling me, telling me that dinner is ready.
She doesn’t know I’ve spoiled it, and I feel like a criminal with the evidence smeared across my
face.
I wipe the residue off my cheeks, dust the crumbs off my shirt, and yell “coming!”
Annasimone Mikhail ’20
8