Covid-19 by Audrey Chuang, 11 The news rings in my head The anger and negativity swirling around me I can’t settle My heart won’t settle Everyone’s hearts won’t settle Every pair of anxious eyes Waiting for the image For the image Of crime Death The old book that I have read millions of times by now Is wrinkled And words are faded I can’t go outside to play I can’t imagine without going to the library I can’t imagine without reading a new book I can feel my heart beating every time Something bad happens like the stock Rising up and down Like the heartbeat of a patient Waiting for the doctor I can feel the pain that the world is facing It feels like its pulse is in my hands Ready like a flying fish Out in the sky Open to the new Open wide world That used to be Full of people Now nothing But a mere ghost town Waiting to swallow you up And make you face the crime And the pain people are talking about in the news You know it You have it You feel the pain of who you are Until you fall into the jaws Of the people Who recovered And died You don’t know who is next But it may be you Watch out for the coronavirus Doctors and nurses Are waiting to See how to stop the jaws Of the Covid-19. Every time I turn on the TV, I see the Covid-19 update, just like when my mom turns on her phone, all she sees is the updates of more face masks, homemade food or some sort of thing that relates to Covid-19. I wrote the poem ‘Covid-19’ because it mattered to me and the rest of the world. When I started to write this poem, I felt this was very important to me as there was something behind it and I wouldn’t know until I finished it. I knew that on the day I started writing this poem it gave me inspiration to rethink the people and the world around me. What I want to express in this poem is that the Covid-19 is very dangerous and still, some people are not taking it seriously and this is risking doctors, nurses, and others’ lives. Just like a flying fish wanting to fly and see the world and see what it feels to be out of the water, and to watch out for the sky and waters above and beneath, people need to be careful of Covid-19 and keep social distance before we defeat this virus. Always, there is a lantern of hope in my heart, and for that, my poem has the shape of a lantern to let people see it as a kindle of hope. Audrey Chuang, 11 Portland, OR
Poetry
Tough Times, a poem by Aarush Iyengar, 12
Tough Times by Aarush Iyengar, 12 Tough times are here, So keep your loved ones near. Be happy and sing a song, When you feel the days are long. Keep your spirits up in different ways, Work and play inside, eat a bag of LaysⓇ Don’t freak out, don’t go crazy, Do what everyone does best, just be lazy. Sleep longer, watch TV, Do anything you want, you are free! Play video games and exercise, Stop worrying, like other guys. Use this time as a break from life, Get away from all of its stress and strife. Read a book, become smart, Maybe even do some art. Instead of being nervous, enjoy these days, And remember, this won’t last forever, it is just a phase! Aarush Iyengar, 12 Schenectady, NY
The Virus, a poem by Avah Dodson, 11
The Virus By Avah Dodson, 11 As I lie in bed I can hear Mom sobbing into Dad’s arms. They’re dying. What are we going to do? Who? I wonder as I drift off. No one I know. I wake up to rustling, like a lost mouse Scurrying from an invisible threat. Dad is getting up early to go to the store. But why, I ask, Why can’t we go to Starbucks Like we always do? I have to shop early, he replies, Or everything will be out. Get a donut for me, I call. He returns with bags stuffed with Slightly old strawberries, Capers, organic eggs, soymilk, But no donut. My school classes start—awkward, virtual classes— But at least I get to see my friends On the blinking screen. Upstairs, my brother in his online class, Dad tapping on his laptop downstairs, Mom emailing on her phone in the kitchen, We are like bees, trapped in their own hive. Our WIFI glitches, overloaded. I have to get out of the house, Mom says. She and Dad take a half bottle of French wine from the cellar. Going for a walk, they say, We’ll be back soon. When they come back, The bottle is empty. My forehead is 99.8. Mom buys medicine. Just to be safe, she says, As if she weren’t buying it To remind herself That we have free shipping And Amazon Prime. Mom whispers to Dad but I can hear. She helps refugees and Holocaust survivors. Today someone called her, desperate for help. His disabled daughter was alone, homebound. A few hours ago she opened Her last can of beans. We couldn’t help her, Mom whispers. I lie in bed. Our symptoms from this pandemic are mild, Immunized by our privilege. Who is dying? Many. Millions. I lie awake. Avah Dodson, 11 Lafayette, CA
