You Will Always Be Beautiful by Barbara Glover

The sun shone down

You peeked and poked your green shoot through

The rich brown soil

Uncoiling your long graceful neck

You sought its warming rays.

When rains came, you drew moisture

Inside you so you could grow, grow strong.

And strong you did grow.

Up, up and up shot your stem,

Reaching higher and higher

Trying to touch the sun.

Your petals exploded like great yellow Umbrellas

opening up and framing,

Your warm honey heart.

The sun called you throughout the day

You answered and danced, a dance full of life.

Your head turning

Always towards the sun, towards tomorrow.

It beckoned to you, like a sunny promise.

 

Life was good, you were alive.  Your world unfolded, before you.

Your own seedlings sprouted and were taking root

In your good soil, you’d carefully cultivated for them.

You knew they too would dance with the sun.

I went to bed, and the winds blew and the house shook.

In the morning, when I surveyed my garden,

All looked well, though a bit tossed for wear.

Then I stopped. My eyes spied you.

I screamed, “No, no! Not you!! How could this be?”

I saw you bent.  Your strong stem battered down. 

Strange things hung about you. 

You could not lift your head.

You no longer follow the sun or dance with its course.

Your strong yellow petals are greying now, drying up,

Cracking off. 

You falter and falter, closer you lean to the earth each day.

You were strong. You were young.

This should not be.

But even now my friend, Sunflower,

Golden one,

You are still beautiful. Your honey heart still glows.

Even as you fade - You will always be beautiful.

Untitled by Bri Van Reenen

untitled by Bri Van Reenen

i’m walking on a sidewalk

thinking of a friend

i’m sitting with a group

imagining its end

i’m talking all about him

hoping we will pretend 

while she’s driving down a street

shuffling through tunes

she’s talking at here family

not knowing what to do

as she thinks there in her bed

about no one else but you

i hope to cross her mind

and sometimes i do

but every wishful thought ends up

tainted with you

she utters my name

and fears she’s exposed

i hear that one word

and pray that she knows

perhaps i am unheard

or there’s just no more room

because all that she ever hears

are the whispers from you

the signs on the road

signatures on a page

places you won’t go

the words you’ll never say

things she’s afraid to feel

because all you see

is that she’s gay.

Recovery in Ten Parts by Jillian Law

Recovery In Ten Parts

1. Sleep will never be my friend again. I envy my friend who falls asleep first at a sleepover, so easily able to shut off her brain and ignore the sound of the TV. My brain can never quite unwind that easily. Even now, three years later, sleep and I are not friends.

2. I heard my mom talking to my dad the other day. She used the phrase “when she was sick” to explain something to my dad about me. It hit me right in the gut, that phrase. I never think of it like that. I didn’t know she did.

3. “When she was sick” implies that she is now better. Like anxiety and depression are colds you can treat with Aspirin, like I still don’t have trouble sleeping or feel like everything is too much some days. It makes it seem like it is in the past tense. My anxiety is not in the past tense. I wish it could be.

4. Some days, I unravel. I can’t sleep and I can’t think and I completely fall apart. Sometimes, it’s more than one day.

5. I saw a movie once where a girl stood on top of a mountain and screamed. Just screamed out her pain and her frustration and her fear. I don’t live near a mountain. I have to settle for a pillow stuffed in my mouth to muffle the screams. Somehow, this isn’t nearly as satisfying.

6. The only thing worse than unraveling is watching people you love unravel. It’s worse than going through your own shit. It’s like watching a car accident you’ve suffered through happen in front of you. You know exactly how to steer the wheel to avoid the collision, but you’re not allowed to drive. You can only watch from your car.

7. I remember, as out of it as I was, begging my mom not to put me in a hospital. I was afraid to go see a doctor because that was what I thought would happen. She convinced me otherwise. Three years later, visiting my dad in the psychiatric ward at Beaumont, I understood why I was so scared.

8. Sometimes, I am endlessly tired. Not just sleep-deprived tired. I am tired of school and tired of hoping and tired of dragging my body around from place to place like any of it matters. Sometimes, I am tired, but I continue on anyways. What else can I do? There is not shortcut to where I want to be.

9. The side of my brain ruled by anxiety tells me, “Give up.” It says, “You will never get where you want to go.” The side of my ruled by depression tells me, “You are worthless, and you are a waste of space. No one really likes you.” I listen sometimes, weighing these opinions, but usually I just tell these sides of my brain, “Fuck you. I have things to do.”

10. When I can’t find big joy in my life, I collect the small ones. I store them up in my head like snapshots. My nephew’s toothless baby smile. Singing thank u, next in the car with two of my best friends, hopelessly out of pitch. Group chats. Movie nights. I survive on the small joys, and I keep hoping for the big ones.

Another Angel by Rachel Fry

Heaven’s claimed another angel.

Another friend left for the sky,

But never lost because he’ll always be by your side.

Urging you to once more carry on,

Now that he’s gone on to a new dawn.

Walking down the golden first street,

For he has God and Caroline to greet.

To You by Rachel Fry

To tell you the truth you are my friend above all else,

But you must know these feelings that developed can only be blamed on ourselves.

You see, you didn’t draw my eye upon first glance,

But it was the laughs, the smiles that drew us into this dance.

It was the way that we talked and the way that you listened

That I began to notice the way your eyes glistened.

It was the way we banter, neither ever admitting defeat

That I noticed the red on your cheeks and my heart skipped a beat.

I cannot believe how blind I was for so long,

Perhaps it was the unseen transition that made me hope we belonged.

And maybe that it when you noticed your feelings had changed,

From friends to something neither of us could or would explain.

Because I wanted you and I’m certain you wanted me too,

But then my head interfered saying this situation was misconstrued.

I saw the jealousy in your eyes and in your words when I went out with him.

However, I blame you for the ocean of confused I was left to swim in.

You see, if you wanted me, why were you with her?

Why would you let the line of friendship blur?

I was struggling to push down the feelings sparked in my chest,

Confused and hurt that you started this and then left.

Did you chose her because she was comfortable and safe?

Were you too scared of hurting her that it was me you wouldn’t face?

So I drew the line unable to feel like something and nothing,

Leaving my words and distance to do the crushing.

I saw you once again and my heart still fluttered,

But the distance left my head less cluttered.

While I miss your friendship most of all,

Perhaps separating ourselves truly was the best call.