the week drags on
and on, essay after essay after project after test, i need to recharge. my eyes close refusing to stay alert: no longer fueled, i cannot sleep. toss turn flip the pillow sit up lay down think. my thoughts keep me awake. sounds outside and inside of me interrupt slumber, stress, anxiety, worries too much to handle: what if what if what if. i cannot sleep. toss turn flip the pillow sit up lay down think. they say “we all get tired” but not like this: hearing the seconds tick by: heartbeat, watching nightmares reach from under my closet, hoping to sleep again. i cannot sleep. toss turn flip the pillow sit up lay down, insomnia.
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She always felt like someone watched her, whether in her house or outside. Always felt the eyes of a stranger staring at her. Maybe she was a just a little paranoid; that’s what her family told her anyway.
Late in the afternoon and she sat–on an old broken park bench with a book in her hand, so absorbed that she did not notice the silence. It was never silent in this part of town because of the highway across the street. The wind began as a small whirl, turning into a loud roar; this got her attention; looking up from her book she took note of the silence and thought “Weird”. Tilting her head to the side she tried to hear something-anything: only to come up with nothing. The air seemed to thicken as she did this, which made her fidget. The wind brushed lightly against her cheek making her jump; “Hello?” she called out. No reply came, which made her think it was just her imagination. Then she heard, “Mary,” her name, a whisper so soft it could have been mistaken as the wind whistling. She felt hot air; a breath down her neck making her freeze, “Mary,” she heard again and realized that she should leave. Up from her seat with a jolt she took off running–running away, running into the woods--. Looking around, she became aware that it was dark; how long was I sitting on that bench? The snapping branches behind her immediately terrified her more! She took off–running faster then she ever had before only to trip over some tree roots. “I can hear you,” the voice said again, “there’s no point running away.” Trying to get up, she noticed that her foot was stuck and begun to pull and break the roots and branches of the tree. Pulling her foot out, she breathed a sigh of relief when she got it free; only to scream when she felt a hand touch her shoulder, “found you.” She slowly turned around to face a pair of steel, cold, gray eyes before everything went black. HAPPY HOLIDAYS! (and a happy new year!) I know all of us are excited for the upcoming holidays, so make your wish list, and your "holiday greeting cards", and i know if your me, go buy last minute gifts for your family!! HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
We Lost Everything
It had blown through our small town destroying everything in sight. The part down the street had been thrown into the lake across the street. We huddled in our tiny, protective basement hoping it would find us. Winds were blowing seventy- five miles per hour my father had told me. At night when we all went to sleep I slept in the top bunk. I knew it was late when I was reading my magazine. Every so often I’d hear a tree branch fall onto a house or a power line or I’d hear the blaring sirens. I just couldn’t go to sleep, what if something broke through the metal doors, it might fall on me. I climbed out of my bed with my sleeping bag and a pillow, quickly, but quietly shuffled over to my golden retriever, Larry. He was curled up in his bed in a corner. I put my pill near his warm belly, set up my sleeping bag, crawled back into my sleeping bag and fell asleep. “Wake up, the house it’s gone,” I heard my older brother, Tim whisper shout to my parents. When my parents sat up my brother took my dad up the ladder and outside. My mom put her slippers on and walked over to me. She shook my side a little bit and asked me to help her make breakfast, which was only cereal, so I’m not sure why she need my help. When my dad and Tim came back in told my mom he needed to talk to her outside. “What’s going on,” I asked my brother curiously. “Nothing,” he lied. Everyone always lies to me because they think I can’t handle the truth. When in reality I was twelve years old and knew way more then they thought. When mom came back in she was in tears. I handed her cereal to her, but instead of eating it she gave it to Larry. My dad told me to take Larry outside when I was done. I knew what was going to happen, they were going to talk about whatever was going on without me. When I finished my cereal I grabbed Larry’s leash and took him outside. That’s when I knew was going on, our house had been destroyed. Once Larry was done I took him back in the basement. “The house is gone and none of you decided to tell me,” I shouted at everyone. “Sweetie-“ my mom started, but I cut her off. “Don’t sweetie me, you guys always keep things from me, but I know way more then you think,” I continued to shout. “Audrey-,” my dad started to explain, but I cut him off too. “Just leave me alone,” I demanded. I climbed up into my bunk and lay there staring at the wall, I stayed that way for a couple hours until my mom came up and started to talk to me. “Sweetie, please come down we want to talk to you,” my mom asked. “Oh, so now you want to include me,” I mumbled and climbed down. When I got down I sat next to my brother even though I was still mad at him along with my mom and dad. “Drip, drop, drip, drop,” the pitter patter of light rain pelts the sidewalk as I trudge along, “drip, drop, drip, drop,” the rain pelts the thick black cloth of my burqa as I try to keep pushing along the wet city streets. I step in a warm puddle as I cross the street to the next block. Now I’m just five blocks away. It would take me so much less time if I didn’t have to wear this thick piece of cloth over everything except a little slip near my eyes so that I can see. I wear my Burqa because of my religion. I am Islam. I wear it because I am serious about it. People think just because I wear the burqa around thatam happy with wearing it. They are horribly wrong. My body whole body drips with sweat, and it’s hard to breathe since the cloth covers my nose and mouth. It’s hard for me to walk since the thick cloth is always pulling against my legs. Wearing a burqa feels like I am wearing a long skirt that is too long and ten sizes to tight. Not to mention a lot hotter. I have seen the locks that people give me. I see them point, I see them whisper to each other. I hear people talking and calling me names to each other, not worrying whether I hear it or not. I have felt the sharpness of their glances. It is as if I was responsible for the September eleventh
attacks just because I am a Muslim. I have felt the pain of peoples words, and I have felt the heaviness of their glances. I sometimes question whether it is necessary for me to wear a burqua. After all this is America, and I am in what they call the city of brotherly love, but I dismiss these foolish thoughts before I have time to think about them more. And as I trudge towards the train station, staring straight ahead and thinking about the glorious moment it will be when I get home, I realize no matter what people say or do, I will always stay true to my faith and my religion. Through the Hidden Eyes
Alone Nothing but rubble surrounding The racket of bombs crashing against the parched ground Ceramic pots dropped and trampled Each piece carefully picked up The whole country is blown apart Wearing a burqa, wear a tent That hides beauty Mouth is blind Have to eat my voice Hands are locked in a cage Not able to move or shake Amber eyes stare Never seeing the world clearly Burqa sweeps the dust Feet sliding on the ground The fabric thrashing against legs The rays of the boiling sun seep through the cloth pressing on my face Flesh is concealed These drapes are the prison But there’s nothing more than wishful thinking. Smoke,
Coming out of the windows And doors Burning down Old memories that would never, Be replaced. Trapped Inside my small little house With no way out Blood on my leg Hurting Aching in pain Wishing it would just fall off But I knew that wouldn't happen. A man In a suit Lifted me from the corner in my room Puff coming out of my breath Coughing up smoke, Losing breath Carried out of my house My leg rubbing against his suit Burning Bleeding Boiling In the hospital patients fill the room Broken arms Legs, People in beds, They rush me into a room And throw me on a bed I scream and yell in pain and fright Telling him to stop He gives a nod It was time My mother walks in Face full of tears Cold Full of worry Her hands meets my face I turn toward her, She tells me My leg will not survive Too much blood and skin A cup Full of medicine I am going to be asleep while the job is done No more running No track They were all disappearing My eyes slowly closing Getting darker Smaller My eyes heavier Closing This was the last time I would see my leg Full of blood And no feeling. My father may no longer be part of me,
he is here with me, but he is not a part of me. I left my father, Like an apple rolling away from the tree inch by inch, day by day. Now I must stand for myself, alone to fight the darkness, without help, and barely standing a chance. No longer may I be a child, I must fight on instead, no matter what, this twisted world throws at me, I will survive. Never will I fall, Never will I give up, I will carry on, No matter what. Feet hit the ground, so soft so silent,
No sound is acknowledged. Your the only one alive, or so it seems, though dim yellow lights spill softly down white slopes like melting butter. Nothing matters but the world, which is the only thing that should matter. Yesterdays argument and Saturday's confrontation are far behind you. No more headaches press on your tired mind. You have lost yourself, but not entirely. You still exist, just not at the moment. Your so silent. Feet barely hit the ground. You know you'll be back, in your unknown town. Buildings keeling over From the pains of bombs and mines, The rubble’s dust drifts through the wind Resting from time-to-time. Windows masked in deep black A shield from wondering eyes, War raging on, going strong Taking many lives. Why does it matter Why don’t I leave, I suppose if I tried hard enough I could flee with ease. I could have a better life Or a worse one over there, I already can live life here So why risk a scare. My house is still intact Withstanding the air, The darkness embraces and warms my soul For I can’t see the war anywhere. When I was young I was told home is where Your family and friends are that day, They all live in Afghanistan That’s why I stay. |
All work on this page was created by Middle School & High School students. We hope you enjoy reading their amazing poetry, essays, and stories.
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