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.

To My Friends (Who Deserve All the Love Poems) by Jillian Law

To Grace, my oldest friend

We meet playing softball as kids

I stuck with softball a lot longer than I would have without you

I’ve stuck with a lot of things because of you

Since this is a love poem, here are a few things I love about you

You are freakishly smart but never advertise it

You constantly introduce me to new and interesting things

You slay like Buffy but have a heart as big as Willow’s

You are fundamentally the person you have always been, which is a rare and beautiful thing

To Caroline, the other third of our trio

You are brightness and laughter and fun

When I think of you, I think of sleepovers watching HSM 3 and bad karaoke and the night we couldn’t get into OLV and saw Prom instead

You make me laugh, and you keep me sane

What do I love about you?

You are a better listener than anyone I know.

You never stop trying to make me have new experiences

You are the best cheerleader a friend could have

To G, my best friend in high school

On paper, we don’t make sense

You hunt and drive a truck, I write and wear red lipstick

But we did make sense

We don’t talk much these days, busy lives and all,

But I know that you always have my back

G, you are generous and warm without ever thinking about it

When I needed a ride, you drove me around

When I had a nervous breakdown, you came home

Thank you for your hugs and your kindness and for always answering the phone

To Rachel, or Senator Wagner as you will always be in my contacts

Basically, we became friends in Christian Morality because we were part of the small groups of people

(Really just you, G, Theresa, and me)

With morals

That first judgement hasn’t steered me wrong

For years, you kept us together: sleepovers, pool parties, game nights…

Even though you’ve moved, I think we’ll still stay together

Senator, I admire your drive

You are fiercely intelligent and unapologetically ambitious

Even though we will never agree politically, I respect the way you stand by what you believe and continue to grow and learn

Whatever you end up doing in life, I know you will pursue it with passion and good intentions

To Irese, who I knew in high school but not well

We were in the same circles, but we didn’t become friends until I started driving you home from Rachel’s

Our friendship was forged in Lola, on highways and in your driveway

Now, I think, how were we never friends before?

What would I do without our driveway conversations?

Without your text messages arguing about Gilmore Girls or bemoaning Bradley Cooper’s Oscar chances?

Without having you to talk at movies with?

Without you to raise me up, talk me off a ledge, and make me think?

To Marwah and Sarah, my Madonna girls

To Marwah, my mom friend, who does her best to keep me alive

To Sarah, my doppleganger, my favorite nerd

We met through the Writing Center (thank you, Frances), and you guys continue to be one of my favorite things about work

Thank you, ladies, for constantly hyping me up

For making me laugh always

For our group chat and that trip to the DIA where we almost got kicked out because Marwah touched the art

For your mom tendencies and nerdy jokes and strong hugs

And to all my friends, past and present

That I didn’t have time to mention

Thank you

I love you

If I had more pages, I would mention each and every one of you

You all deserve love poems

Dream of Life by Gabrielle Wobrock

        The other night I had a very strange dream. I was at my Nana E’s house and Uncle Craig was there too. We went to wake her up and get her dressed for the day. He opened the bedroom window blinds and then went to pick out her clothes. I looked outside and I saw some sort of freeway bridge curving around the backyard. Her house sits on a large hill and it slopes down into the backyard. When I looked down I saw that the whole yard was covered in sand with a tiger sleeping off to one side. On the downstairs deck, there was a large brown bear and wolves pacing in and out of the trees on the right side of the yard. I told Uncle Craig to come look and he couldn’t believe it either. A while later I went out to the driveway to see if I could see anything else. Sure enough there was an entrance to the bridge right next to her house, with one of those really big gravel trucks going really fast to start the curve. Shortly my mom and sister pulled up and asked what was going on. The next dream found me in a high school and I was looking for my old history teacher Ms. Butler and I walked down this long hallway to a large gate that was locked. I saw that it started moving the scrollwork on its own, I got scared and called the guard. He came over and I saw that it was Morgan Freeman and he told me not to be scared of old Ralph. I asked him why and he told me because Ralph was special and would never hurt anyone. He let me through and soon I got to this big open room with all these people in it. I turned around and saw that it was Nana E’s funeral service with her casket at the front of the room. Eventually I found Ms. Butler and told her everything that I was going through and how much I missed her. When the service was over I left with my mom, sister and somehow my geography professor. While we were walking back to the car, I found pinecones scattered on the ground. I picked a couple up and took them with me because Nana E loved pinecones. This is for you Nana E.

Love, 
Gabrielle