Tatum Lovely, 12 (Pipersville, PA) Dear Corona Tatum Lovely, 12 Dear Corona, I sit alone in my room, drawing flowers. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m trying to get inspiration for poetry. Oh look, they’re chrysanthemums. Do you know what chrysanthemums represent? Death. Yeah, death. I guess you can relate to that. You bring death! What was it… five million people? That you’ve given a bouquet of chrysanthemums? Huh. Amaryllises represent pride. Are you proud of what you’ve done? I mean, it’s pretty impressive. You’ve brought pain, fear, and isolation to billions. You wipe us out, you make us cry, you put limitations on all we like to be and do. You’ve made yourself an enemy of… the world. You bring what all people deeply dread the most: loss of loved ones, or, themselves. You are a blanket that has been tossed carelessly over our little planet. I think a black blanket. A dark, thick, black blanket. You’ve added grief and gloom to perfectly fine days. But now, after all that despicable talk, I will draw you white roses for unity. You might lock us up in our own houses. You might take from us the most precious thing: life. And you might have forced us into a sense of revulsion for masks, making us feel like medical patients. And for shots, though they protect us. And for zoom calls, and kisses through a camera. And for social activities that now we see how much we taken for granted. But still, I draw you white roses for unity. Because though it is true your wicked ways have cost us, you have brought us closer together. We’ve spent more time with our immediate families than ever. Even the world is closer than ever because we’re all fighting the same battle, all together like the selfsame species we are. You certainly did not physically unite us, but hopefully you have in heart, mind, and spirit. Sincerely, Tatum Lovely
poetry
Broken Traffic Light
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
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.