Broken Traffic Light Ismini Vasiloglou, 12 wear your mask wear your mask wear your mask wear your mask wear your mask wear your mask wear your mask wear your mask wear your mask wear your mask wear your I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t run faster run faster run faster run faster run faster run faster run faster run faster run faster run faster run faster run faster run faster run faster run faster run faster run faster run faster the fabric hugs my skin as I gasp for breath, my nose clogs with colored cotton fiber don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop my lungs burn, but I can’t take off my mask; the excessive flooding’s forced us inside stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe stay safe the restrictions aren’t nearly harsh enough to help us but I’m suffocating under their hold stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop
poem
A New Christmas Tradition, a poem by Eleanor, 13
Eleanor Dagan, 13 (Bethesda, MD) A New Christmas Tradition Eleanor Dagan, 13 Singing, dancing, musical instruments playing, The season of joy, and of red and green Every year at Wes we do a magical Christmas show, the spirit is filled with songs, performances, and instruments blasting through the gym The carols begin, the echoes chime in, the trumpets play and the clarinets follow everything is in sync, everything is perfect Things have changed things are not the same, the new Christmas tradition was on zoom, glitches occurred, but we made it work, sound squeaked, Echoed and yelped but we made it work, we made it work, like we did in the years past, we made it work in a new Christmas tradition.
Peace, a Poem for our Veterans, by Mason Li
We see the words on veterans’ graves – all powerful, all dark, nothing left, no heart, winners or losers – don’t care – both in the dark. Only left behind are their bodies, filled with peace, sadness, and bravery. Try remembering when he or she gave us peace, harmony. For that, we can thank them, but it’s too late. Their hearts cannot be seen. Now, we only can thank them by bringing peace to our world..
