I don’t like to blink, if I blink everything goes away. she said ¨In the blink of an eye it’s gone..̈ What if that’s true, In one blink In one second Everything is gone. I tried to stop blinking, to keep the moment, to pause time. I keep my eyes open. Prying them open with two hands, making them burn hot like fire, my tears unwillingly crawl down my face. It’s not enough. it’s never enough, I always blink and the moment is gone her love is gone. I reach and Claw at my eyes, wanting to grab what I once saw I need to go back to the feeling, bring me back to the moments. In one blink of an eye, I now see things differently. it’s true, she was right it’s all gone in the blink of an eye.
The brisk and tend’r graze of autumn Saccharine but piquant aromas whisp’r through gale Sylvan foliage ad’rn’d in hues of auburn and aurum A warmeth embrace amidst quills of ail
Though the gleam of the radiant beacon wast curtail’d the dreamweav’r’s lighteth int’rminably burns silv’r in the colli’d sky through the wheat fields the caw of raven trail’d while the scarecrow saunt’r’d in the rye
Och’r pumpkins splay’d out across the meadow and amb’r bales of hay did kiss by dusk the gentle blossoming of f’rment’d dough and the windeth which cradles the harvest’s husk
Steps invoking a crackling symphony Sublime mist holding a sacr’d tiffany
Green like the grinch, Eat the last, you’ll get pinched,
Vinegar and spices, swirling tight, A combination of tastes, bold and bright.
I always try to savor, But I LOVE the flavor.
They brighten days with no cheer, Pickles are always welcome here.
#9: Ode to Touch
Elizabeth LaBarge
The force of a ruler Swiftly Brought against skin
Sometimes enough To bleed.
The pulling motion Of something sharp Across tender flesh
A reminder That you Can feel.
A soft cloth moves Down the nape of the neck
Back
Into the warm water That caresses The rest Of you.
Braiding the hair That falls into your face
Gentle tugging, Soft brushing
That reminder Once again.
#8: Ode to Nature’s Changes
Ella Roberts
The way the leaves turn a different
Shade. And the sky’s crumble when it begins to rain.
Why do we fear the uncertainty?
Is it something we can fix, or just our humanity?
Personally, I love the way
The leaves fall and sway,
Although it means that winter is near,
I can’t wait to see the night sky,
The stars so bright and clear.
Maybe someday when the weather gets colder,
You won’t need to cry on a loved one’s shoulder.
#7: Ode to Melody
Kevin Lu
Singing with friends during late night calls.
Falling into a trance while listening to a Spotify playlist.
Hitting the transition from an F7 to an Eb7 while improvising.
Music isn’t just a concept, it’s an experience.
It is something that you can smile at.
It is something that you can cry to.
It is something that you can fall in love with.
For me, music is a symbol of freedom.
The melodies I play and listen to
Have no bounds to them.
Which is why I find them beautiful.
#6: Ode to Books
Camryn Horne
A world that is not mine But feels catered to me.
You’re an escape from my reality Of grief and sorrows, guilt and shame, To a land full of fantasy and fun Allowing me to choose my destiny.
You allow me to read a story like mine You allow me to feel heard and seen You make me feel like i’m not the only one You allow me to find new words to express myself.
You dont judge me for being upset Not for crying, or laughing When it hurts too much to do much else. That is what makes you great.
I’m so grateful for you And the papercuts of love you bring That make me feel so alive
Is it a melody? Vocals? Multiple sections? Instruments?
The thunder of trombones,
chilling the spine
Resonance of guitar chords
Ear twitching rhythm of drums and symbols
Passionate hums of human souls
projected out in a whirl of sounds
With or without meaning to external ears
Every song is a story
And every story deserves to be told
#4: Ode to No
Angelina Ortiz
The word “no” stands firm, a guardian bold, In a world that often seeks to mold. It shields our time, our dream, our heart, From paths that tear our soul apart.
A simple word, yet strong and sure, It keeps our boundaries safe and pure. Unappreciated, yet its power is vast, It helps us find our way, steadfast
So honor “no,” for it paves the way, To live our truth, come what may.
#3: Ode to Chocolate Milk
Miguel Dania
Chocolate milk, a childhood dream,
A swirl of cocoa in a creamy stream.
Poured in a glass, so rich and smooth,
A sip of joy that always soothes.
Morning light or evening’s end,
Chocolate milk’s a timeless friend.
A blend of sweet and dairy delight,
Turning every moment right.
From lunchbox days to midnight drink,
A comforting taste that never lacks.
Chocolate milk, so pure and sweet,
A simple pleasure, always a treat.
#2: Ode to Rain
Somara Wilkinson
Oh gentle rain, you grace the earth, with droplets kiss upon the ground, A symphony of soothing sound you dance upon the leaves and trees, A whisper carried by the breeze. In silver threads, you weave a tale, Of natures love, so pure and pale. Your presence brings a calm embrace, To every heart, to every place. Oh rain, dear rain, you softly fall, A gift of life, a balm of all.
#1: Ode to Rain
Nawaf Kassem
Though your cold tears trickle from the heavens, saturating the earth and wilting the dianthus; accompanied by crisp petrichor— gloomy clouds and shades of gray blind the imperial eye.
Though they dread it’s abundance: Droplets of bliss and misery, their beseeching palms are elevated to implore you, calling upon your blessed caress over the arid land.
Though tendrils of darkness and greed engulf you, Poison and envy lurking beneath your eyes: Ravenous pupils as thunderous skies— Repulsive beauty.
I find solace in your distress, though. When the world is made mum, and your grief envelops puddles I heed the patter in the mirrors you’ve forged
The cabin isn’t the same as when we had arrived, I can’t remember how we arrived here; the woods are twisted, mangled; as if the world itself is wrong. I don’t remember it looking like this, why do the trees have eyes; red yet translucent maggots crawling in and out of them, a fog so red and thick it could be an ocean: my smiling friends hanging from the branches.
Raghav Manohar
The natural stench of dirt fills my nose as I wake up trapped in a small rectangular box.
Disoriented, I can make out “may god rest his soul,” and my family crying above me.
Zen Watanabe
I heard the faucet dripping again along with creaking, there’s nothing wrong with this, it happens all the time. That was the moment I saw my brother’s headless body hanging from the ceiling, that was when I realized what the creaking was.
Aubriana Fiorini
As I answered the phone, I heard my dad’s hoarse voice. This made my skin crawl since today marks the five year anniversary since I murdered him.
Giuliana Famoso
The police are talking about me, “She’s a case gone cold,” the radio crackles and he turns to me, his navy blue uniform barely visible in the dark basement and his badge glinting in the dim light, “They’ve given up on you… any last words?”
There I stood, alone, cold, damp. I pulled my cloak tightly around me, trying to save as much heat as possible. I contemplated the direction that I take now, I was so content following the path that I just want to keep going forward. If I go left, I keep venturing into the forest, hoping to find my purpose that I’ve been looking for. If I go right to the village, I could also find the purpose I’ve been looking for. I hear music in the distance, accordions to my right and birds to my left. I see purpose in both paths, to the right I could prove myself as a useful person, but to the left I prove useful as an independent body. Ultimately, it’s my choice, but I’m so conflicted. I think I’m going to go my own way, make a new path, and head straight. Or I could turn around, now I’m conflicted again. I want to make my own path but go my own way. I’m confused now, the right path looks more worn, and the left seems more wild. I want to take the path less traveled but someone still has traveled it. You know what, never mind, I don’t know. Left, right, forward, backward. Well, I’m not going back, so backward is out. I don’t want to deal with people, so right it out. Now, forward or left. I think I’ll go left, but I do want to stay straight, it’s comforting. But I want to be uncomfortable, test myself. You know what, I’m done. I’m going left, and that’s that.
Through the trails winding under canopies of half orange oak leaves she ran. Through the playground ringing of children’s screeches and the rustle of wood chips being buried beneath their quick feet. Through the vast expanse of pastureland dotted with cows deep in their morning graze. Through intersections met with children in strollers and their mothers. Through the back parking lot, a haven for the lone blue dumpster. Through Wertman Lane, tranquil on that Sunday morning, only the gentle whisper of a light autumn breeze to be heard.
Acres of land stretching in each direction of my front door Sounds of the wind would harmonize with all the trees loudly whistling Traces of my chickens left everywhere, their scent, feathers, food pellets My water well, that creates the sound of rainfall, every time I walk past it. My mothers garden that would stretch yards, filled with greenery and flowers A driveway hundreds of feet long with a beautiful view of mountainous hills soaring across My eyes were so used to this scene, nothing was exciting about it Nor the sights, nor the sounds, nor my chickens
The drowsy city of Albany Most gloomiest place on earth First thought that came to mind: Dull First color that came to mind: Gray My first hope was to go back home I have zero expectations when I look out the window Everything looks the same as the street before
The contrast was so bright then it became so dull Only on visual terms I never fully learned to appreciate one moment of life’s reoccurrence How could I possibly have high expectations for that next moment?
As I settle into my chair to compose this heartfelt letter to you, my future self, a feeling of wonder washes over me as I contemplate the relentless march of time. I contemplate how time does not wait for a soul, how the mind does not comprehend the swiftness of these years until it is too late, and all I can do about it now is to sob into my pillows over the heartbreak of missing my innocence. These are the moments that I begin to reminisce about times I had wished to grow up faster, not knowing all I want right now is not only to stop getting older, but to be younger again.
I am now 16 years old, and a junior in high school. As soon as July 31st comes by, I will never be 16 again, exactly how I will never again be 2, in Syria, chasing my sister and her friends. I will never be 7, learning to ride a bike in the parking lot of one of the masjids I grew up in. I will never be 9, with a blue cast on my arm after breaking my hand rolling down my cousin’s backyard in plastic cars, while our mothers were inside making us dinner. My favorite color was blue because my moms favorite color was blue. I will never be 13 getting my nails done for the first time during my last ever year of middle school. I will never get those years back and that is a feeling that confuses me.
Time truly is a phenomenon that continues to captivate me, the impressive thing about the future is that we never know what is to come. Even with our endless hopes and expectations, anything can occur and alternate the path we are on. I have learned that through the vast array of experiences I have been put through. I would have never anticipated my house setting on fire, my parents splitting at a young age, my mother moving away to a different state and having no consistency in any aspect of my life with all the moving I have done, with all the people I have lived with, with all the schools I have moved to. After living through it, it all seems typical and is my one and only reality.
Engaging in a deep reflection always seems to engulf me in a whirlwind of emotions. I, for one, believe that everything is a blessing in disguise, and am forever grateful and thankful to the one and only Lord above me. I have been given a chance to grow through harsh times and learn valuable lessons, gaining wisdom. My experiences have collectively molded me into the person I stand before you as today and will continue to frame me into other versions of myself till my time is to come. Each moment seems almost dreamlike, a powerful testament to the ephemeral nature of time itself.
My English teacher says that at this age, the stress we feel for the future is ordinary, that we are young and are afraid of the new chapters that wait for us. However, the realization that not only has time sped by, but will continue to hurtle forward at an unwavering pace is what resonates most deeply within me. As I craft these words, a heightened awareness washes over me – these next years will zoom by in the blink of an eye. It’s a thought that carries a certain weight, an urge that makes me want to live each and every day with a clear sense of purpose, to truly savor every moment, and to never take for granted the blessings that surround me, because one day, I will wish to be 16 years old, and a junior in highschool again.
As I delve into contemplating the uncertainties of the future, a multitude of questions wash over me. The questions I ask myself about the pending future are my motive to keep going, and my motive to give up. The future remains veiled in uncertainty, but one truth remains undeniably clear: time is a relentless force that waits for no one, and the responsibility falls squarely upon my shoulders to make the most of every precious moment bestowed upon me. I often spend time wondering who I will become, where I will find myself, if I will pursue my dreams, passionately chase after my deepest desires, or leave an indelible mark upon the world,
I do not want to look back with a pang of regret, yearning for the opportunities I let slip through my fingers, the risks I never dared to take, and the chances to embrace life to its absolute fullest that I let go of. As I ponder the swift passage of time, a quote by the esteemed poet Henry van Dyke surfaces in my mind: “Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.” These insightful words beautifully capture the very essence of the intricate relationship we share with time.
Amidst this kaleidoscope of human experiences, it is love that emerges as the most powerful anchor, a constant among the ceaseless tide of time. Love possesses the ability to transcend the boundaries of time itself, infusing every fleeting moment with a significance that stretches beyond the limitations of the clock. It imbues our lives with a profound sense of meaning, fortifies our spirits with unwavering hope and optimism, and serves as a constant reminder that even as time marches on relentlessly, the bonds of love endure, steadfast and unwavering. So, Einas, remember to love.
Love more than people. Love the clear certainty that you are alive. Though death and age are factors in life we cannot sway, having the ability to die means that you have the ability to live, and that is what we must do. As you delve into these words penned by your past counterpart, I hope that they resonate deeply within the core of your being. May you be filled with an abundance of gratitude for the countless moments that have woven the intricate tapestry of your existence, and may your heart brim with excitement for the captivating adventures that lie ahead on our path. Remember to seize every moment with unwavering purpose and a burning passion, and to cherish the love and memories that light the path before you. It is moments of love and connection that truly endure.
“We were friends back then, in a way that everyone is friends in kindergarten.” We were friends back then, in a way that everyone played with each other during recess time. But now, our reality seems too difficult for us to process it. Everyone is either on their own trying to succeed in their lives, while others hide in their own personal corners. Where time never stops, to return all the memories that were created by us. Where love disappears and never returns back to us. Where laughter and joy tends to take a break from us. This is our reality. The truth that we didn’t think would be revealed. If only we knew how to act and be distant from one another. If only we knew how to warn each other of our “perfect” world. This could’ve been so simple. This could’ve been our dream. This could’ve been our typical friendship. If only we wanted to. If only we cared to. If only we tried to. We just gave up on ourselves. On our friendship. On our future. We still can forgive each other and our lame excuses. We still can respect each other, even though we aren’t on the same page in life. Both of us have no clue what we want from each other. Both of us know we don’t miss each other. Maybe just our pasts. Of our silly kindergarten friendship. Of our little clueless hearts. “We were friends back then, in a way that everyone is friends in kindergarten.”
