There have been a lot of palindromes coming up in our calendar of late: 2/2/22 is the latest.
While we did not write any palindrome poems to celebrate, you might find it intriguing to notice the interplay between the pieces we publish this month, the juxtaposition of art and word, and find your own inversions of ideas that might be considered palindromic. We hope you enjoy this missive from midwinter . . . stay warm out there!
To the Stranger In Front of Me
The confusion my heart
holds is overwhelming. I linger upon the question of this being loneliness, or
a genuine spark. The rhythm of my beating heart though translates to lies in my
mind. Something impossible.
I could never gift my
heart to a stranger. A stranger who I have known for five years. All the
opportunities but none were taken. Even now, with the stranger right in front
of me, I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I smile, but it is only when you
look away.
I hate this. The
temptation to have such a love towards someone is absurd. To find comfort in
someone who may not even know my name.
Hope is nonetheless buried
deep inside my heart despite the contradicting thoughts in my mind. Possibly
they feel the same? No, that is likely not the case. How could that be? After
all, I, too, am a stranger in their beautiful mind. The enigma I may never get
to explore, but oh how I wish I could. After all, they are only a stranger
sitting in front of me.
by Stephanie T., Grade 9
 |
| artwork by Mackenzie J., Grade 7 |
The Old and the New
As
the old year comes to an end,
And
you think about the old and the new,
You
think to yourself that there's no way you'd abandon the old things,
That
were so special to you.
But
as the world changes,
You
do too.
Begin
to reflect on things
That
are old and new.
A
fresh new layer of paint on a wall.
A
brand new pair of shoes.
A
different bird that will sing its song,
Delivering
information and news.
An
old, dusty piano,
With
cracked and splintered wood.
Yet
the notes still sound crisp and sharp,
As
any piano should.
A
new idea enters your mind,
It's
terribly shocking and extremely unrefined.
But
as you fix it and tune it, making it better,
You
realize you just created something you'd never be able to just find.
Hobbies
are something you're passionate about,
And
you really like them too.
But
as you try more things, you think:
It
wouldn't be terrible to discover something else to do.
You
think about something else -
Your
bad habits and bad decisions that you choose,
And
begin to wonder:
Aren't
old things something you'd rather lose?
As you see children with gifts you'd been given
Something
occurs to you just as fast:
No
matter how similar a new toy would be,
It
never reminds you of that toy from your past.
As
the old year comes to an end,
And
you think about the old and the new,
You
realize it wouldn't be too bad to leave behind the old things…
But
then again, why not keep a few?
by Richard W., Grade 7
 |
| artwork by Mackenzie J., Grade 7 |
Paralysis
He cups his hands
and raises them to the sky
He sits and waits
for rain
She does the same
How they would love
to meet, but heaven knows they’ll never try
They sit around
waiting to heal: overdosed on apathy
Staring at the
ground, refusing to look at the sun
Waiting for rain
Wishing they could
drench themselves in these storms
And watch the
trusses bend and sway
They can breathe but
would love to start living
They're still
holding on, still waiting
"Just keep
moving"
Etcetera, etcetera
Seas of people
staring at their feet, their hands cupped to the sky
Who will never know
what they've been waiting for
And who have missed
their life flash before their eyes
by Liam R., Grade 9
 |
| artwork by Richard. W., Grade 7 |
 |
| artwork by Jacob D., Grade 9 |
