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).

josie heart.jpg


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.

Josie Hatch

Al Jolson 

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

Bloody hands

Bloody backs

Alexa Coulstring.jpg

Lexi Coulstring

|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


Emmy Kelley