“Departure” by Heidi Bilger
“Departure”
Heidi Bilger
Tears well in my eyes,
Leaving behind happiness.
I have never liked good byes.
Tears well in my eyes,
Leaving behind happiness.
I have never liked good byes.
There are some places
that even the sun doesn’t shine.
But there are voices
that can guide you
into the light.
Long walks down the Drum Tower,
Past the iridescent vendors.
It’s another day,
At that familiar place,
On the other side of Earth.
Let them be as fish,
Always fed, cherished, protected
But confined to a dark cell all alone
I’d rather be a fat, solitary blobfish
exploring like an albatross across the Bering Sea.
Okay this.
Okay that.
The stranger
Asked me.
Are you okay?
The hardest
Question to be answered.
¨are you okay?¨
Cannot seem
To find the words
To describe
The blankness
Of my.
Mind.
Confined to
The darkest corners.
Of my lonely
Canyon mind
The stranger stares.
Seeing no thoughts
Behind my
Confined blind
brown eyes.
The stranger walks
Away.
Not allowing me
To confine in them
But to confine
In my mind.
the love in my eyes glimmers,
reflected by the screen in front of me,
as i find myself questioning,
time and time again,
if love can truly blossom from oceans away.
love love love
a beautiful thing we long to experience
it can be wonderful
or it can be painful
it’s a forever kind of thing
with the right person
it makes us stupid
it makes us happy
nothing will change that feeling
the feeling love gives you
but with the right person
if you’re lucky
you’ll find your person
the right person
i found mine
one in 8 billion
you feel happy, loved
something i’ve longed for
you feel emotions you never knew existed
all for one person
the right person
how could one do that to me
i was cold hearted
intimidating
how
just how
could one person make me crack
but in the best way possible
thats when i know
he’s the right person
the only right person
The Christine Curley Memorial Award for Creative Writing has been established by Christine’s parents to be presented annually to the students who display interest and potential in creative writing.
During Christine’s high school years, she showed great promise as a poet, and the hope of her parents is that this award will encourage other students to pursue in their writing the spirit with Christine so beautifully demonstrated in her own.
A faculty committee has chosen
to receive this year’s award.
Inspired by “Caged Bird” by Maya Angelou
Some oats slide into a bowl.
They soak in milk and sugar,
Mixed with care and attention.
Their flavor and texture are delightful –
Sweet, creamy, and puffy –
As they pervade my mouth,
Claiming my admiration.
But other oats remain in the bag.
They crack from dehydration.
They are flat, thin, and small,
Their flavor lackluster.
They are tasteless and their skin is dry,
So they shuffle and dance around.
They dance,
They fly,
They jig,
They glide.
Never has a bag of oats seemed so energized.
Some oats dazzle with cinnamon.
They swell with love,
Cherishing their time in the spotlight.
They tan and warm up in the oven;
Toasty is their flavor.
As they cover a dollop of strawberry jam
They make the plate their own.
But other oats lie still in their bag.
They roll over each other and sag.
They sit, wanting the light.
They sit, wanting the warmth.
They sit, dreaming of their own flavor.
They are tasteless and their skin is dry,
So they shuffle and dance around.
They dance,
They fly,
They jig,
They glide.
Never has a bag of oats seemed so energized.
Inside my heart there is a sacred place. One can discover the candy red walls and high arches and be humbled. One can discover the deep red marble floor and feel grounded. One can discover the back rooms and center room (or the drawing room) saturated with warm, dim light, and feel at ease. One can discover the soft, candy red, velvet-covered lounge chases and enveloping egg-shaped chairs and feel comforted. One can see, almost at the wooden, burgundy, arching front door, the round glass table with flecks of various shades of red and a silver platter of jam cookies sitting in the middle of it, discover the chairs with backs of black-painted metal, configured into a soft diamond shape under an arch, with candy red cushions on the seats, and feel welcomed.
the soft flowy nightgowns
going high on the swings
these are two of my favorite things.
curling up by the fireplace
warm mug in my hand,
watching snowflakes fall from the sky onto the land.
running down hills
watching cars 2 on rewind,
lying down on the couch trying to unwind.
twirling and spinning
always statins on my shirt
hearing birds sing while I play in the dirt.
designer dresses and clothes
wooden toys handmade in germany
counting the stars, never knowing how many.
being chased by the moon
staring up at the sky
sitting at the park watching birds fly by.
baking cookies with grandma
watching curious george
drives with my grandpa, me shotgun in his porsche.
ballet, tap, and jazz
singing some tunes
always awaiting for the month we call june
“guess how much I love you?”
my mother always asked,
“to the moon and back I” say, looking back on the past
now that I think about it,
I remember that song
that song my dad sent me before he passed on,
now I can’t just do I must think and think,
for anything I do might make my heart sink,
not from the movies, books or shows,
but from the name calling of the people below,
sitting high in my tower all on my own,
wondering how I came to be alone.
the window bursts open,
a bright light shines in,
“come on, what are you doing?” she says with a grin.
i sigh, and slouch.
“it’s the end of my childhood, now the fun stops.”
I look back at the set with all the old props.
She smiles at me and says:
“not the end but a beginning, i’ll help you out”
and she did, without a doubt.
she made me smile and laugh,
new times began,
making new memories just like back then.
yes times are fleeting,
I won’t disagree,
but accept some new greetings and you’ll be just like me.