March 2021

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, 13Pleasanton, CA

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, 13Pleasanton, CA

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, 13Pleasanton, CA