Author: Matthew

My life started in the ground
I was taught to dig at a young age because that was the only way to stay
away from the predators outside.
They could smell our fear and that is how they hunted us
We felt trapped in the place that was supposed to make us feel safe.
We dug tunnels and created these underground communities that were
predator-free.
We would feed upon the roots of the giving tree because everything else was
outside.
This was our life
Dig. Eat. Stay inside…
There are always predators outside.
I heard stories about cicadas who have gone outside and it usually went one
of two ways: they were eaten as soon as they reached the surface
Or they grew wings.
I wonder how it would feel like to fly
To feel a gust of freedom blow off this dirt that has been tattooed to my skin
They told me not to go outside
Because that’s what we were taught when we were young and it seems like
the most logical thing to do right?
But why is it that the place that is supposed to be safe makes us feel like we
can’t be free?
Each year brought me closer and closer to building up the courage to go
outside
Whenever I thought about it, I imagined that gust of freedom again
But I also imagined the predators chewing on my bones.
They hated me despite never speaking a word to me
But they were raised to hate us just as we were raised to fear them.
Then the day came when my shell began to harden
I began to travel to the surface and saw my memories painted on the walls
of these tunnels
My whole life has been down here, but that’s not the life I should have been
living.
I saw the sunlight, the grass, and the sky.
I even saw the top half of the giving tree
It was so much to take in at once but I also noticed that the predators were
nowhere to be seen.
Where the predators ever here?
Or were they made up so no one would leave?
I finally got to the tree trunk and thanked the giving tree for all she has
given me.
My skin began to shed and I felt like the weight of all problems have just
been lifted
I looked back and noticed how ugly my old skin used to be
I could also see my wings and they were ever so beautiful

The song of a players
Emotions coursing out their fingers
Into the strings
The rhythmatic
Poetry of music
Being sewn into the atmosphere
Complex artistry
Coming together
Into one full
Sound
Years of
Evolution to
Come the
Wonderful
Piece of art
It is today.
Guitar is not just a instrument,
It is a way of life.

The speck showing
a future among
Sharpie scribbled skies.

A planet who shines
its hardest with
a raging surface.

A white ray ripping
Through the black hole above,
Gouging out soulless eyes.

An Idea written
Out of goals to break
walls emitting shadows

A spot separated
From where it belongs,
though it belongs nowhere.

A strength shown as
It bursts through
What seemed impossible.

The Dream untouchable, but
Desire still sits,
Waiting to be reached.

The Star, alone, one of many.

James Bowie High School

12

To your mother –
your father –
your sisters.
To me.

Your soul enlightened each and every day.
A soul too eager;
too intellectual –
too beautiful.

I saw the way you felt;
about life –
graceful, everchanging.
About the universe-
unsuspecting, unreasonable.

You cherished
creativity through voice.
Your expression,
determination.

We used to talk
talk about things we barely understand:
nirvana –
love and happiness –
sadness.

We agreed:
we had no idea where
we would end up.
It didn’t matter.

As long as there was
love,
enjoyment;
in every fiber of our being.
Through every action
of every day we lived.

You loved the idea of
starting over.
Moving on to a new life
encompassing contentment;
hope.

You let yourself fill with
discontent,
indignation.
Only seen,
if you allowed.

It built up,
compressed,
petrified.
But you never let it out.

I wish you would have let it burst.
I wanted you to let it explode
and pour out of your mind.
Like sand –
release the weight inside.

Yet instead,
you tied a knot.
One that will never be undone.
sand turned into rocks
and pulled you to the bottom of the ocean.

You would never let
emotions;
taint how you loved the world.
Instability;
dull the flame inside you.

The perfect release,
you found your nirvana.
Expelled beauty through your existence
and the world soaked it up.

When folding clouds roll
across a rose and lavender
stained sky.

When the moonlight
tears the ocean in half;
and the waves try to heal themselves.