Growth and Change
We all grow throughout our lives and that growth is accompanied by change. This is here to showcase that every change, whether good or bad, is a learning opportunity and should be used (even if it's only for a fantastic piece of art or writing).
by Kaitlin Taft
Riddle me this, Why do I cry?
I bundle pain in a box, And let it slide.
Out past the ocean and off a cliff
To the nearest person who passes it.
Now you've come across my box
Colour me this, it’s got a lock
And once its picked, inside you'll find.
My beaten heart I tossed aside.
What will you do. How come it’s here
The pressure builds and grows to fear.
How do I fix this you will say.
And toss it back towards my way.
For that same reason it was cast aside
I'm too heavy to mend inside.
My darkness creeps up nice and close
And through art I feel pain the most
But you come back with a box as well
Filled with colours to mend my hell.
Your box of magic mends me quick
You've given me my crayon fix.
by Jacob Nunn
Dogged is the man
Broken beaten torture
Fine fuel for families
Where does the mind go
When it has no place to grow
Keep picking keep picking
|patricide and other stupid metaphors|
by molly boggs
i know my own blood tastes like insomnia and trying to forget (remember) but i’ve never
cracked open my bones to see everything i am made of
and isn’t that funny (terrifying)
because i am worried that maybe i won’t like what i find
or i might cut myself on the jagged edges of my ribs
but lately i feel like throwing myself against a wall
just to go searching in the pieces of me
and last night i had a dream (revelation)
of all the tree branches i’ve ever seen
and how many of them i was too small to reach
and when i woke up
i started wishing that mother had sung me a lullaby before i had grown too bitter (restless)
and ever since that night i have been scratching histories into my knuckles to remind myself what could happen
if i start feeling too happy
and i have been pulling at the loose strings on the sleeves of my sweater but now i am wondering (hoping) if that was the only thing that was keeping me together
and lately it has been hard not to think about dying (running) because i have done it so many times before
and lately it feels like everyone around me knows something i don’t but i’ve been told
that’s what it’s like to grow up (fall apart)
and yesterday i think i met an angel called redemption
but she told me she didn’t believe in god
and isn’t that funny
because it sort of feels like swallowing your own teeth
and what i mean to say is maybe i’m nothing but (i’m sorry i’m sorry) and trying to drink all the saltwater in the ocean
and wouldn’t that be funny because
yesterday i tried to rip out my own heart and i barely felt a thing
and what i’m trying to say is i’m sorry and maybe/maybe/maybe (not) i’m made of more than stale starlight and shavings of my father’s heart
but i’ve been meaning to ask
/is there anything that tastes better (easier) than falling off the edge of a cliff?/
by Katie Houde
into the blaze
and I woke up
sweat in my eyes
grit in my teeth
my world burnt to the ground
but I am spared
I can rise and go on
I can walk off, take a shower, be better
grow again out of my own ashes
grow again out of my own trauma
i am blooming and sometimes
blooming needs a blaze