Summer 2023

#1 Ay Mujer-
Mujer Joven,
Con una belleza como ninguna otra.
Cuando lo viste por primera vez.
Sabías que lo amabas.
Y el dijo que también te amaba.
Tu amor ardió como un fuego apasionado
Mujer enamorada, dejas que tu consuma.Nueva Madre,
Con tus hijos en tus brazos.
Tu amante a tu lado.
No hay anillo pero no te importa.
Porque crees que tu amor te une.
Pero eres ciega, madre amorosa.Pobre mujer,
Te deja una mañana
Él nunca mira hacia atrás.
Encontró una nueva mujer-
Amar para siempre.
Él le da un anillo de diamantes y oro.
Que brillan como las lágrimas en tus ojos.
Ay de mujer desolada,
sin nadie a su lado.Oh mujer amarga,
Tus emociones te consumen como un fuego.
Y ni siquiera tus hijos están a salvo.
En tu locura y dolor-
has destruido todo.
Vuelves a tus sentidos.
Pero es muy tarde.
Tu eliges unirte a ellos el río.
Mujer afligida. ¿Qué has hecho?

Y ahora La Llorona,
Cada noches lloras.
Desde las orillas del río acechas.
Llamando a tus hijas.
Nunca seguir adelante.
Y nunca encontraré paz.

#2- Dolio?
¿Duele? Mujer Ahogada?
¿Cuándo tu cabeza se hunde bajo el agua?
Cuando tus pulmones se llenan con el río?
Mientras te hundes-
¿Duele?

¿Dolio? Mujer Ahogada?
Cuando la muerte te detuvo.
Estabas asustada en absoluto?
¿De las aguas turbias?
De tu destino?
De cada paso que diste?
Tu vestido, una vez de blanco
Como la flor de guayaba
Se vuelve marrón con el agua del río.
Mientras gritas “¡Ay mi hijos!”
Dolió?

#3 Lágrimas De La Sal.
Tus lagrimas llenan el río.
Como el viento susurra tus pecados.
Oh querida, ¿dónde están tus hijos?
¿A dónde han ido ellos?

Tus lágrimas saladas riegan la tierra.
Y tu pena se aferra a las rocas.
Tus hijos se han ido.
Así que pones tu cabeza debajo.
Y deja que el río llene tus pulmones.

Oh Woman-
Young Woman,
With Beauty like no other.
When you first saw him.
You knew that you loved him.
And he said he loved you too
Your love, it burned like a passionate fire.
Woman in love, you let it consume you.New Mother,
With your children in your arms.
Your lover by your side.
There’s no ring but you don’t care.
Because you believe your love unites you.
But you are blind, loving mother.Poor Woman,
He leaves you one morning.
He never looks back.
He found a new woman-
To love forever.
He gives her a ring of diamonds and gold.
That glitter like the tears in your eyes.
Woe to a desolate woman,
with no one by her side.Oh bitter woman,
your emotions consume you like a fire.
And not even your children are safe.
In your madness and grief-
you have destroyed everything.
You come back to you senses
But it’s too late.
You choose to join them in the river.
Grieving woman. What have you done?

And now La Llorona,
every night you weep.
From the riverbanks you lurk.
Calling for your children.
Never moving on.
And never finding peace.

Did It Hurt?
Does it hurt, drowned woman?
When your head goes under the water?
When your lungs fill with the river?
While you sink-
Does it hurt?

Did it hurt? Drowned woman?
When death held you down.
Were you scared at all?
Of the murky water
Of your destiny?
Of every step you took?
Your dress, once as white
as the guava flower.
Turns brown with river water.
As you scream “Oh my Children!”
Did it hurt?

Tears of Salt.
Your tears fill the river.
As the wind whispers your sins.
Oh my dear, where are your children?
Where have they gone?

Your salty tears water the earth
And your grief clings to the rocks.
Your children are gone.
So you put your head under.
And let the river fill your lungs.

Cora Welker is a freshmen at Lafayette Highschool and is extremely dedicated in the arts. She has been in the SCAPA program since 4th grade and is excited to continue her education at a new school.

Still Life

By Mackenzie Duan

At dusk, I listen to the clock of my mother’s
knife on the cutting board.
How it strikes
like an evening bell, remote yet tender,
the scene casted in chiaroscuro:
my mother’s dark, sloping arms against
the chalky walls. I study this while pretending
to read a novel where a woman never knows her son
chose a new name. How I think of love: in name only.
What I think of bliss: scallions bobbing like hollow beads,
my mother splaying the roots with metal, the present tense.
Soft breathing beyond the window’s torso.
How our kitchen cramps with light.

Mackenzie Duan is a high schooler from the Bay Area. Their work has been recognized by YoungArts, Princeton University, and The Poetry Society.

The Gravestone

By Linh Duong

A crow
caws. Its cry has
signaled a new
night. In this
inky blackness,
a faceless grave
sits alone in the center
of a vast, abandoned field.
In the deafening silence, fireflies
float about in the emptiness as mice
navigate their way through the dense,
overgrown grass. The critters
lived within the trees and beneath
the dirt.
////
////
=====

They shied away from moonlight.
Yet, this night was a moonless one and these
shy creatures felt brave. Inch by inch, one by one, they
made their way to the gravestone. This once represented a
person. This person was someone who had lived, who had forged
relationships, and who was now dead. When it was first erected, people visited
and their tears watered the grass that surrounded it. But now, no one ever
visited. The wind and rain had worn it out, stripping the grave of its name,
making it faceless. Now, no one was left in the world to remember the skeleton
that lay beneath. But if its person was forgotten, then what purpose did the grave
serve? The gravestone contemplated, having no answer. Its skeleton hadn’t died
alone, so why was it about to? A lonesome existence. Reality had settled in for the
gravestone. The gravestone had been abandoned. And now, no one would weep for it,
clean it, or keep it company. Time took its toll. All living things eventually died. This
same fate would befall the gravestone. After being neglected for so long, cracks had
formed. It was alone. Its name was gone. Its purpose had faded. The tombstone was
overrun with moss. The moss thrived in the cracks, anchoring itself to them. It grew so much that the
tombstone’s surface could barely be seen now. The gravestone knew that it had little time. Once the moss took
over, it’d be the end. The crow cawed one final time. It mourned the death of the gravestone.

Linh Duong is a graduating high school senior, —she is excited about her future and traveling the world, especially in Spain and Vietnam. In her free time, she loves to binge-read Chinese novels and eat triple fudge ice cream. Her hobbies include drawing (dragons) and learning new languages. Linh is adventurous, outgoing, and a hard worker, enjoying quiet time by listening to music or practicing Chinese.

12 hours before…

By Weyinmi Barrow

One scalding hot shower,
Two boiled eggs with instant noodles,
Three more boxes to stuff with our memories,
Grandma is coming over by four.

Aunty is five months pregnant,
Six cousins teary eyed, begging me not to leave,
Our priest comes over by seven,
We say our final goodbyes by eight.

Nine people sleeping in this house tonight,
Ten boxes lined up in a row,
By eleven, i’m still fast asleep in my anxiety,
It’s twelve,

And i’m awake,
Alone,
And never been more afraid to go.

Weyinmi Barrow is an aspiring novelist and poet. Born and raised in Abuja, Nigeria, and consequently moving to Trinidad and Tobago, she channels the feeling of everyday and extraordinary experiences into her writing. She is sixteen years old and loves reading in her spare time.

Thoughts on the Water

By Annie Walsh

a line

brushes up

against my glove, abrading

the callouses through

the thin fabric. three clicks until the sail catches

the wind just right. my boot grazes the strap

as I slowly lean back and allow my face to feel the cool ocean spray after every

wave.

Sometimes I wish I could be her; not just in control of steering her.

Sometimes I wish I could be her; able to get up so easily. Head

strong through and against those tough waters.

Or even on the easy days. Take time to slow.

I aspire to be her. On any course.

Annie is a high school senior from New Jersey who is a varsity sailor on her high school team. With passionate creativity and an observant eye, Annie reflects on her own characteristics with her time spent on the water sailing as well as other aspects of her life. When off the water and out of the classroom, Annie enjoys sewing garments and accessories for herself and friends, as well as taking on hiking trips outdoors.