family

Writing

Tell Them

By Portia Miller

Okay,
I’m going to tell them.
It’s been weighing on me for awhile.
Most of my friends know,
And they should know too.

But I’m scared.
So
So
Scared.


Where the Heart Beats

By Betsy Cha

Perhaps the first

Was the open sky

Infecting above the carpeted ground.

Books astray in an old wicker basket,

Just enough room for a girl to climb in.

Crayons drawing, thoughts wild; just

imagine at your fingertips

The World.

 


Pictures

By Carly Hassenstab

Police tape lines the yard
I walk past
Baby blue house in cookie-cutter neighborhood
I look down and it says welcome
I quickly step in and close the door
so the camera flashes don’t glimpse inside
A table set for seven with pink orchids in the middle


Iowa

By Aaron Peterson

When I think of Iowa,
I think of cattle,
I think of the rattle under the road,
driving by humble abodes.
I imagine cornfields,
I imagine barns,
driving by the farms,
I hear the rumble of tractors,
the thunder in the sky during summertime,


Christmas Axiom

By Emma Muscari

The fire hisses, flickering,
as it lay encaged by a thick black sheath of iron.
Cloth stockings droop down− bare and bereaved.
Pure, white snow is drifting
down from the blank upper atmosphere.
The gray and white dog routinely scampers


Grandpa

By Kate Clore

Sitting on my grandpa Larry’s lap,
laughing and smiling.
Going everywhere on the cart smiling.
Smiling the way he laughs.
Going to the hospital trying to smile,
but I can’t.
Rushing to his room I run.
He is still there I smile.


Three Choices

By Molly Kavanaugh

The ties to your ancestry
Binding a great family tree,
With this can you be truly free?
Now you have these choices three:
Embrace your blood,
An old-new bud.
Refuse the bonds
For fields beyond.
Keep roots down there,
And to be fair,


Battle Wounds

By Caroline Koenig

Sometimes things happen
It is a part of life
But no one said it would be this hard
Take her back to the start
In the beginning it was all fun and games


Just Like My Dad Said it Would

By MJ Ferguson

Once I was through the door, I dashed down the stairs to my room, flinging myself onto my bed, sobbing. I felt so stupid, so clutzy, so worthless. Questions flooded my mind. Who am I? Am I really Amy? Or am I someone else? I didn’t know anymore.

Knock-knock-knock.


replaced

By Emma Nicholson

Day and night become irrelevant 
Time is no longer marked by the movement of the sun
But rather the hours passed in front of a screen


A Mother's Love

By Anonymous

I loved you
And you loved me
Many nights we stayed awake together
Holding you close
Every time singing
Rhymes of geese and shoes
Every night


What Made Me Who I Am

By Kyle Huffaker

I get part of her one day.
And a part of her the next.
I rarely see the same side twice.
But I don’t blame her,
 Because she is dying inside.

Cancer is Ludicrous. 
But has blessed my life.
It defines my character.
And has made me who I am.


My Brother

By Grace Hoskins

He makes me laugh
He makes me smile
We goof off
He sees a side of me that no one else sees
The silly side the ridiculous side
The “Let’s make up a word to mean this” side
We have each other’s back


Rubble

By Ayush Pandit

They’ve run out of garbage bags to use as body bags.
Power lines cracked in half like splintered pencils are strewn through the streets
neighborhoods panic as the ground forgets what being solid is again
aftershocks bigger than most earthquakes bend steel and rebar


dad

By Lauren Yoksh

you are like the sun:
oblivious to time’s existence
wake up at noon to eat dessert
and watch television reruns.
you are sleepless nights
and grease stained fingers
covered in cuts and bruises and scabs.
you are like the war


Bloodlines

By Ayush Pandit

My blood is not pure.
Siphoned through custom it puddles as an unholy poison. 
A mixture between castes that courses sin through my veins
Broken tradition seeps through my marrow
and pools black in the hardened pupils of my grandmother


A Living Anachronism

By Amanda Pendley

As the years go by and we outgrow our old faces and our old skin and our old identities, 
I wonder to myself if we are really becoming new people at all, 
or if we are simply just accumulating more years and more selves 


Sticky Rice

By Kylie Volavongsa

She’s not sure what to make of herself
stranger at home 
unfamiliar face in a sea of faces that
should be everything she’s looking for


Hot and Sour Love

By Alice Wu

I fell in love with the first taste of that awakening flavor. The clouds of egg drops melted on my tongue and were followed by the dark earthiness of wood ear mushrooms. I thought I was drinking liquid amber, bright with acidity and warm with the red kiss of chilies.


Call Me Stephanie

By Ayiana Uhde

Hi my name is Ayiana
Once upon a time,
I was a young girl
Seeing the world through rose colored glasses
my mother sobbed to herself at the kitchen table
Wondering why
Crying tears that would not relinquish 
depressed feelings


Fathers are for Freedom

By Gillian Knaebel

It’s hard to understand what
to feel when his words say
he loves me but the tone of
his voice says the only thing
he cares about is himself.
Scars stain his back
and my wrists
but the only real scars are
the ones on our hearts.


A Refuge Without Light

By Alice Wu

“Ma, it’s morning. It’s time to get up.”