Eden George, 10, Brooklyn, NY 2020 Eden George, 10 2020 was supposed to be our year It was the year guaranteed to make us all cheer What’s this we hear? Coronavirus- nothing to fear Kobe’s death, what could be worse? Throughout the world armies did disperse Confirmed alien sightings, we’re not alone in this universe Words of warning from my mother the nurse Rumors of schools closing Many of us are supposing Masks, they are imposing Still no mandate for enclosing Now attending school with a click Getting sick What a trick I really hope this is over quick Birthday parties over Zoom My grandma’s death I thought did loom Prayers to avoid impending doom I wonder will this all end soon Today is the eleventh-twentieth day of Junetober Man, when is this craziness going to be over? I have way too much toilet paper; wait what, now I’m a hoarder? Showing my passport just to cross the New York to New Jersey border Fireworks light up the nighttime sky I thought this was reserved for the 4th of July Is this a celebration, or are we all about to die? What, murder hornets – now I’m really gonna cry If I go on another hike This is the year I really learned to ride a bike Thankfully, the beach I also do like I’m hearing the teachers are about to strike George Floyd and Breonna Taylor Black Lives Matter, votes by mailer It’s time to start thinking about the 2020 movie trailer Worried about not going back to school and whether or not I’ll be a failure Social distancing is still a thing Halloween candy dangled on a string I dressed up this year as a mask wearing King To the virtual costume party, what should I bring? I’m thankful for the essential workers Doctors, nurses, and those who flip burgers Supermarket cashiers and restaurant servers First responders, teachers, and medical researchers 2021 will soon appear Rest in peace to those no longer here Vaccination very near Extremely happy to close this year!
poetry
Stone Soup Author Interview: Tatiana Schrayer
Stone Soup contributor and 2020-21 intern Anya Geist, 14, talks with Stone Soup author Tatiana Schrayer about her poetry collection Searching for Bows & Arrows, which tied for second place in the 2019 Stone Soup book contest, as well as about how writing runs in her family, and the freedom that comes from creative writing. 0:25 – How were you introduced to Stone Soup? 1:13 – How did you decide to submit to the Stone Soup book contest? 1:55 – How hard was it to write the collection? 2:10 – How did it feel to finally submit? 2:30 – How did it feel to win second place? 2:57 – Do you find that it’s easier to write about your own life? 3:26 – What is your favorite thing about writing? 4:25 – How much time do you think you spend writing? 4:59 – Where is your favorite place to write? 5:16 – Is the writing you do for fun different from the writing you do for school? 5:57 – How did you decide to title your collection “Searching for Bows and Arrows”? 6:21 – Is there anybody in your life who has been a mentor or inspiration to you? 7:00 – Do you have any writing advice for your peers? 7:26 – If you could tell somebody about Stone Soup, what would you say?
The Courtroom Choir
1993, Washington DC— a new voice was being added to the Supreme Court. It was the voice of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. It was a young voice, but it was strong. And though she was young, she sang as loud as she could in the choir of the Supreme Court. She was different from anyone there, but she still sang loud and bright and beautifully in the court. Her beautiful song suggested a place where everyone is equal. No one is hated, no one is oppressed. Her song gained attention from those everywhere. They turned on their radios and TVs and opened their newspapers to hear her song. She sang for those listening. Sang to honor their voices, just so they could feel like people, like everyone else. Ruth was finally heard, heads turned. She became the star of the choir, singing louder and louder. She worked so hard, faced so many challenges, but she kept singing. All of this just so the people could feel like people. She provided hope for those who thought that they would never get to hear a voice, a song, that honored them, that they would never get to live in a world where they mattered. But why did she have to work so hard, just so people could feel like people? Why does the heroine have to climb a higher tower to save the princess than the hero? She slowly tuned out the voices of those who sang for inequality. She was the star of every performance, the role model of every girl. No voices outshined hers. She kept her choir in perfect harmony. She had always been the loudest. Everyone singing with her thought she had the most angelic voice–the most meaningful, powerful. Why didn’t she use this voice for riches or wealth? But she didn’t sing for that. She sang for the dreamers and the can’t-hear-my-screamers because Ruth knew that if you didn’t dream, dreams would never come true, and if your dream was never heard, then nobody would dream at all. Nobody would get what they dreamed of, they would simply think it was impossible. Ruth was there to prove that it wasn’t impossible. And that’s why she sang. Ruth sang for kindness against hate, Love against tragedy, Remorse against shamelessness, Heroicness against passiveness, Smiling against smirking, Making things better against making things better for you. She knew that those who hated would never succeed— that hate will do no good for them. She believed that love will win and hate will get you nowhere in the end. It was a lot of work to tune out all of the voices that sang for hate. Her voice became shriller and weaker, but still, she didn’t run out of breath. She changed music forever. She had the choir singing in the most beautiful harmony. She had everything circulating in a new way, a better way. She seemed to have the weight of the world on her shoulders, yet she still sang, and the people watched in awe. The other side of the choir thought she was weak, doubted her, but Ruth sang on. People wondered how long she would keep singing before the voices of the other side of her choir became too loud for her ears, and her voice became too soft. She said that she would sing as long as she breathes, even if her last breath is before the day her songs saved the world. Things weren’t going well for Ruth. She had gotten very sick. She had lost her voice. The whole world waited for it to return. Though she couldn’t sing, she conducted the choir as best as she could. People thought this was it for Ruth. But it was far from the end. She recovered. . . And the first thing she did. . . Start singing. Her voice became strained. She was old, and she was running out of breath, but she hadn’t yet. As the years passed her voice still shone, drowning out those who sang of hate, and everytime she sang a song, it became weaker, and weaker, until she was so old her voice was quieter than a dropping pin, yet so loud. People were used to her song filling her ears. It wasn’t over, not for Ruth. It wasn’t over yet. And so more years passed and her voice was on the verge of falling out. Finally she sang her last note: “My most fervent wish is that I will not be replaced until a new president is installed” and just like that, her breath ran out, and her voice stopped. The courtroom went silent. Nobody sang. The voices she had tuned out would begin to be heard again, and the choir that sang behind her would try their best to keep harmony without her, but not yet. Nobody dared to utter a single note. The whole world listened in on September 18, 2020, as the nation spoke of the absence of the voice of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. The days will continue—there is no stopping them—but music will never be the same, and for now, all songs are gone. They will be, until somebody who has a voice as powerful of hers will sing her song. We will always have the echoes of her music in our ears. These echos will never fade. They are here to remind us that Ruth’s sacrifice was not in vain. They are all there is until the music starts again.
