Untitled Poem
from Juliette Low Ceremony '11, (c) Rebecca Glon
West Rockford certainly seems daunting to a small town girl, especially when she gets planted right in the middle of a sketchy neighborhood, one that also doesn't seem to care about how it looks or functions poorly as a community. Alaska was such an eye-opening, spiritual experience, and all of these observations together gave me hope that in today's world, 361 is on the right track.
Tonight, the entire world is open
As a cool, hard wind breaks on the bow. I begin to think I’ll never feel As whole as I do right now. But just as I turn to find my bed, A flash of light catches my eye, And meteors jolt me back awake, Ever watchful of that midnight sky. From Cathedral Falls, to otter fur, And back ‘round to my puzzle quest, To live each moment and match each smile, I gave up hours of precious rest. May stars still fall, may children smile, May drums resound within our hearts, May the Last Frontier remind us all That mortals are made of similar parts. But how to return from the wild To an apathetic urban cage Whose jackals care for little else Aside from who should carry the blame? So hard to trade the silent calm For an ugly and chaotic shout That feeds my almost every fear And gives free reign to my doubt. For if hundreds won’t listen to me, Why would one care what I say? And why bother recycling If they all let it blow away? And that becomes a second guess- The place where normally I succeed Melds into a shaky thought, A word without a deed. And that is no way to live my life— Holding back what I think and love— But that’s what the city does to me In its frantic hustle and shove. So whenever I hit the Road With a full or empty car, My mind flies over open fields, My words perfect the way they are. |
That open courage beckons me
More times than I admit: To run, to move, to storytell, To watch, to pause and simply…sit. Out of all that I have seen or heard From halfway ‘round the world, Nothing hits me quite like Bay Or any one of you crazy girls. In the time of smart phones and Bieber, When Type A’s seem fairly extinct, Where sugar’s a flavor, students can’t fail, And no personality seems distinct. Each time you hold open a door, Or still when the sun goes down, Or laugh at yourselves, or shake a hand, Or help a friend up off the ground, From Beaver Dams to trailer pot, To llamas, gators, and granny knots tied, To chicken eggs and cats we want to be, The Star’s legacy is still alive. Though trophies and ribbons push some on, They never matter in the end. It’s who and what you somehow become In those moments that you’ll never have again. But five minutes back with all of you And everything once again makes sense Because that’s what a family is and does, No matter how sweet, catty, insightful, or dense. Everything I want to leave you with Can never be said in rhyme. It’s only felt when you wear the Red And dedicate years and years of time. But until then, words will have to do, So remember I will love you always. Something I don’t mean or say lightly, And may that carry you all of your days. |
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Updated October 27th, 2015
Updated October 27th, 2015