We gave a bird a funeral, my father and I— it was one of those days where time stands still, where all evening sounds seem a lullaby, gently singing the world to sleep. Dusk was falling over us like a thick, warm blanket as we saw the bird at the foot of a tree— fallen, dead, and gone. I wanted to bury it but my father said to leave it be; it was half-buried anyway in its spot of rest, chosen by fate, its ornate wing covering a lifeless beak as it lay in a crevice between two thick roots. So we scattered some leaves of crimson and burnt copper, wishing it well just in case it was on its way to another life. A gust of wind, an autumn breeze, swept over the somber scene, sending leaves dancing as the bird’s beautiful soul departed, soaring free once more. Enni Harlan, 13 Los Angeles, CA
Poem
This is the Song the World Needs Now
Esta es la canción the world needs now Una canción that sounds like esperanza Una canción that teaches fuerza Una canción that makes you feel felicidad Una canción that smells like salud Una canción that holds you like amabilidad Una canción that makes you move like agua Esta es la canción the world needs now. . . Una canción que consuela Nova Macknik-Conde, 8 Brooklyn, NY
Elk
As the sun rises A shaggy figure wades through the swirling mist. His hooves crunch softly in the deep new snow. He raises his antlered head And calls to the great winter sky. It is a promise. “Have patience!” it says. “Winter is not eternal! Spring will return And cover the forest with her cloak of green. The life-flame will lick across the valleys And up the slopes of the distant mountains. The brooks will laugh once more. The flowers will open And tell their dreams to the stars. It will all come. Hold fast. Have strength. Wait.” Cecilia Appel, 13 Tucson, AZ
Cabin Fever
Today was different. I noticed the sun illuminating lands and sea. I heard every fish jump, then flop to a smack, luring the fishers to them. I saw water droplets bouncing after my paddle rose up. They looked and sounded impossible. I glanced at the treelines, noticing their exclusive patterns. Beauty lies in imperfection. I felt the rippling waves rush beneath my paddleboard. Flawlessly, they glinted with blurred reflections, enhancing landscape and light. Even the air was remarkable, with a beautiful, timeless flow. Push and pull, push, push, pull. The moon became brighter. An uncapturable light with stars moving to fit its trance. Ella Pierce, 12 Hudson, WI
The Breeze
Luxurious giraffe Eats the high leaves, Stretches her neck, And watches the breeze As it blows leaves out of even her reach. Sadie Smith, 10 Washington, DC
Climbing Treetops
Chittering monkey. In spring he climbs treetops, And thinks himself tall. In winter he lies down Like the rest of us all. Sadie Smith, 10 Washington, DC
A New Nature
I am a new flower in a tree a unique red bird in a nest full of blue birds. A fish out of water. I am the school’s newborn. My school is a new jungle in my head. Ikran Mohamed, 11 Minneapolis, MN; Somalia About the Project There are millions of children affected by war, social collapse, and climate change now living in refugee camps, or dispersed in host countries far from their original homes. The work that appears here is a part of Stone Soup’s growing collection of creative expression by young people whose lives have been upended by such conflict throughout the world. To explore the entire collection, please visit the Stone Soup Refugee Project online: https://stonesoup.com/refugee-project/
Spring Rain
The spring rain lightly kisses the soil, planting seeds that become buds, where hidden tender petals lay, a promise of bloom that becomes plum flowers swaying in the wind with silent beauty. Alyssa Wu, 13 Pleasanton, CA
Mom’s Kitchen
Mom is sick— a sad thought but there is one benefit: I can finally occupy the kitchen, the forbidden land of war where you come out with scars, but always a reward. I wear my mother’s green apron like armor on the battlefield. I treat ingredients with passion, sprinkle the seasoning carefully, make sure to clean up. With a little bit of confidence, a trace of nervousness and panic, I push the pizza into the oven, hoping to surprise her. Floating aroma, a good heart, and dedication— all for my mom. Alyssa Wu, 13 Pleasanton, CA
They don’t understand
No one believes I am depressed. Depression becomes a privilege. People are eager to make judgments and suggestions— They never really know what I am going through. Depression becomes a privilege. To others I have a perfect life— They never really know what I am going through. I don’t know how to end this feeling. To others I have a perfect life. No one hears my silent struggling. I don’t know where to end this feeling— It’s a part of who am I. No one hears my silent struggling— People think I am trying to find excuses. It’s a part of who am I. No one believes I am depressed. Alyssa Wu, 13 Pleasanton, CA
Spring
Spring is green People roam about Roars fill the jungle air Iguanas sleep in the trees New flowers are blooming Great Andy Li, 7 Hong Kong, China
Rain
Rain splatters on the haze. Shadows crawl to the edge of the cliff to seek their journey from far to near. In the morning the sun shines bright and shows its sunrays upon the night. Patterns write their curiosity in the eye of wonder to make it right. The fine, heavy wind flows from its habitat and interacts with other creatures upon the summer breeze. The trees lean upon their knees, begging for water to nourish their leaves. Graecie Gwyn, 9 Fallbrook, CA
