AT
by D.S. My Dear friend Alex,
If you happen to run into Maria, In a truck, Tell her, I have been boarded. And now, To no longer, For me wait. You should know, the doctor, told my mother, That in a few days, I will pass away. There’s been time I’ve spent, Reading The same all, that I have here books. And ever all I craved Was something new to learn To relieve me from what I know. And it came yesterday. The news, so sudden. The doctor spoke softly, In the hallway. As I heard it, In my room, it lost its light, And the noises from the street, Plummeted silence. Few tears were shed, of course, Under my blanket. I felt so hollow Just think, how young. But to myself I promised, That I will seem, Like always, Brave. Remember, When adventures I dreamt of. Holding, A compass and a map? And I always was prepared to leave, As my mother would tell me “In March.” Honestly, Death, I would like for him, Like a captain, To come a get me. Hitting his heavy leather boots. And a long pipe to be smoking. Alex, Now I feel that I have tired you. Or, maybe I even made you cry. I know you won’t be able To find words for a reply, But you’ll also, Never receive the trouble to write back. Now on the glass, I’ve outlined a boat, And a small quote, I’ve carved. “Depression in adventures, Hides infinitely.” And I, For an adventure, Have begun. by J.V.
These lights reaching your eyes Staring longingly into the black; These orbs of energy, Which offer something besides The chilling blanket of night, These stars, Are lies. These radiant suns tell tales Of the long deceased, Spin yarns Into sweaters Which have long since frayed. These candles in the dark, These bulbs on the tree, These streetlights on the long dark road, Should be as comforting to you As a photograph of oxygen To a drowning man. These pictures of stars Put in the photo album of the sky, Spin yarns into sweaters Being worn by individuals Who combusted into balls of flames, Before the birth of Christ. But we still smile, and feel as if, The memory in that photograph The fire in that star, Is still happening. As we must. As a photograph of oxygen to a drowning man. quote from Alan Moore’s Watchmen |
Haverhill High school137 Monument Street
Haverhill, MA 01830 (978) 374-5700 Archives
May 2019
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