By Maya Garfinkel
Time is not static
It can be slow,
laying in bed all day with lemon tea and a good book
buried in blankets
you can be alone or with someone at your side, perfectly silent
silence is underrated
it makes time go slowly
until you have spent the whole day in bed,
with your thoughts and your empty pot of tea
and your book finished
and an imprint of the person in your bed, long gone.
And the day is done.
It can be fast,
When seconds turn into minutes into hours into a day.
Before you can take a breath.
Walking through streets,
nothing to occupy your time but your own imagination
you can be alone, or someone can be beside you.
You can talk with strangers on park benches,
or see your brother, or sister, or parents.
There’s really no difference between talking with an old man feeding birds,
and my brother, who doesn’t like birds, or talking to strangers.
And the day is done.
I’m afraid of regrets.
Lying in my bed, without tea, or strangers, or family,
I am left to think about the day,
whether it felt fast or slow, long or short,
and no matter the hours, I unwind in my head or on my yellow analog in the kitchen,
nothing can be changed, no hugs can be given, no bitter words unsaid.
The day is done.
By Cameron Daniel- Smith
Scanning battlefield conditions…
Complete! Fear, death, and things unknown
An average day for me.
Scanning personal until…
Complete! Confuses, lonely, a need to help others
Everything seems average
Vocal hole online, sound sensors operating
Dual viewing windows at full capacity
Going through daily operations
I see units broken, weary, in need of fuel
Oil leaking through viewing windows
Try to look away…
The other way I see different units
Same operations but different look
I have a need to trade data
But fear kicks in…
Turn around return to base
As I lay in recharging station
I think of the title of all units
What defines us and makes us who we are
Huge un-operated machines and necessarily sentient
We Be Us
By Dale Rector- Spring Traveling Teacher from Cleveland
Dreams that caress
Dreams that menace
Words that spell our minds
And then us
We will be one
Not all just fun
No one run to show that
It is coming, humming, summing
Will not accept now’s down, down
We can be us, without meanness
Without hate and fear between us
Let’s just do it,
Not sleep through it.
By Nathalie Jane
I am this piece of paper handed to me. There is so much to be written on it, but as for now, I am blank. But now is only the beginning. At the end you will see the change the markings and creases the smudges and foldings. What this piece of paper becomes at the end is what matters.
I’ve never thought that it would take a trip to Guatemala with people who once were strangers; to actually come to realize where I stand in not only my life, but also the people I am around on the daily.
By Guadalupe Reynaga
Un lugar bello
Con un pasado triste
Y con un presente corrupto
Vemos muchas sonrisas mientras
Caminamos por la calle
Pero que dolor se esconde
Detrás de esas sonrisas?
By Teisha Rogers
My experience in the world is nothing like I wish it was. In my perfect world, I would live in a perfect household, where no one screams or yells, but with the same loving family. I would also be more outgoing and not so shy all the time. I would have a realistic idea of what I would like to do for a living. In my perfect world I wouldn’t be so judgmental of myself and would learn to be more carefree and not stress or worry all the time of my future and where I will end up.
By Ismael Cortes
What is a good life?!
Having all you want?
Having the newest thing?
For me it’s been a debate.
At first I thought it was
All about having fun and
Having the newest thing.
Just living a worry-free life, but…
I learned that
Life is greed, someone
Who wants all and gives none.
But there are other types of lives.
There is a life where
You have very little
And you have all you need.
I learned that two things make up life.
All you need is family.
With that, it’s enough,
I don’t need anything else.
That love which I need to repair.
That’s all I need in my life.
By Caroline Slick
The laughs, the cries, the happiness, the tears
So much emotion
So much fear.
I see these people
With layers of wrinkles,
Each a different story to tell,
How is it possible for me to compare?
They give with nothing,
Yet they give too much.
I control your future
Whether you want me to or not.
This beautiful place has so much potential
A thriving city,
A town to remember
Yet the roads are lined with trash
Not gold or bronze or silver,
Your house is made of plastic,
A town with a dead river.
Now you may say this place is not alive
But what might surprise you,
Is all the emotion inside.
The music is lovely
The smiles are big,
The hands are dirty,
And no one cares how bad you sing.
Friendships grow quickly.
By Chris Fontana, Global Visionaries Executive Director
Fifty Strangers Come
Open to the mystery
We are home at last