Sitting on a towel atop the sizzling sand, I’m warm, wet, and a little tired Absentmindedly searching for shells with my damp, sandy, hand I look up to see the wine-dark ocean chomping its foamy mouth Gobbling at the jam of people skittering around the beach clutching their boards And gulping for a breath in the water Pretty sure it is about to take my brother Instead it just gives him a free joy ride I push my pink cheeks in, feeling for a burn Sandpipers rush to pick clams out of the murk, jumping back from the waves Seagulls shout and bicker over a half-full bag of Doritos Mom snaps at us to hide our snacks My little brother defiantly holds up a Pizza Flavor-Blasted Goldfish Hoping to lure a bird to his hand Cheese dust staining his tiny, pruny, fingers My cousins, with salt-soaked hair and rough red sand rashes, Beckon me to Boogie Board with them, And to search for sand crabs with Grandpop (Even though Nana yells at him “not to go out too far!”) When we come back, I sneak a second soda and a bag of Popchips from the snack bag, Hiding them from Mom behind my cousin’s drip castle I watch as her hand dips into the bucket, Then lets the wet drizzly sand dribble through her fingers, Shaping tall towers of mud A moment later my two little brothers bumble over the castle Like little dragons careening into warm, wet, hugs from Mom Look at the Waves, Photo by Ula Pomian Molly DellaValla, 10Jackson, NH Ula Pomian, 11Ontario, Canada
Poetry-Friends-and-Family
Life Without You
You were loved, sweet, Always smiling When I needed you, You left. You gave me the name orphan, You gave me a black shadow, Life without you has no sense. Now, in your best years, Black soil covers you. O my Daddy On your grave There are roses It’s me who put them there Your orphan My Daddy A life without you. Florije Bobi, 12, Lybeniq, Kosovo The poem and drawing on these two pages were created in 1999 by young ethnic Albanians from western Kosovo. Many of these young people witnessed mass murder and the systematic destruction of their family homes. They were forced to march over the mountains to refugee camps in neighboring Albania and Montenegro. An international relief agency called Concern Worldwide organized classes for the young refugees and compiled their work in a book called Drawing Lessons. To learn more about Concern Worldwide, go to their Web site at www.concernusa.org. Laberije Shala, 13 Rashiq, Kosovo
Grandma
I saw a hot air balloon this morning And immediately thought of you Every time I am on the hill I yell “Hi Grandma!” As loud as I can I look at the ancient hilltop tree How its branch is pointing To all the land you loved I look at the vineyards And I remember How much you treasured them When I climb the hill I still remember Scattering your ashes How they blew on me in the wind And I didn’t brush them off I think of you quilting Even in intensive care When it was hard for you to breathe And when you wanted off life support But stayed alive until we were ready I remember playing cards Listening to classical music and Spending Christmas mornings with you Now I can listen to your voice On the life story tape And sleep under your quilt Whenever I want But that is still nothing Compared to your love for me Mark Roberts, 10Windsor, California