Windows Lit Mag 2020

Dear Reader,

Windows

Windows of Opportunity

2019-2020

Letter from the Editors

When first asked to develop a theme for this year’s magazine, the three of us were a little bit

stuck. This year brought many changes for us, from things as simple as a new bell schedule to

the more daunting tasks such as college applications and becoming accustomed to our roles as

seniors. We knew that we wanted to use the Windows magazine as a chance to memorialize

both the new and old parts of Mercy that we love, but we soon realized that it would be

impossible to encompass every Mercy experience in one single theme. Instead, we found our

theme through how we’ve chosen to view our time at Mercy and our position within Windows:

as opportunities.

This theme does speak to the universal human experience, but, more specifically, it speaks to

every Mercy girl’s journey throughout their four years here. In the end, your time at the

Academy is what you make of it. No matter what grade you are in, you have to consciously

immerse yourself into this school in order to fully love and understand it; that is the core of the

Mercy spirit. Every year is an opportunity to make new friends, join new clubs, and create new

memories. Every month is an opportunity not just to learn, but to find your voice and figure

out how you want to use it. Every day is an opportunity to be surrounded by the best girls you

will ever meet. Every second is an opportunity to become a better student, friend, and person.

For the Windows club, this magazine is our opportunity to share the fruits of our year-long

labor with the student body. The amount of passion and emotion put into this publication is

unimaginable. It is our hope that you, as our reader, also take this magazine as an opportunity

to explore and appreciate the hard work that your peers have poured into their craft, whether it

be art, poetry, or prose.

To all of the talented writers and artists who contributed to this year’s magazine: thank you for

trusting us with your work, for without your immense gifts, there would be no magazine. To

our assistant editors, Brooke Bosse and MaryClare Okonkwo: thank you for your dedication

throughout this entire process and for faithfully helping us develop the magazine we

envisioned. To Ms. Lenz: thank you for being our rock in the midst of an unprecedented and

unforgettable year. Your endless joy, patience, and guidance has made our time as both senior

editors and as club members equally wonderful. We are so incredibly blessed to have worked

with so many impassioned, enthusiastic girls this year and to have had the opportunity to

create a magazine that we are so deeply proud of.

Endlessly Yours,

Hannah Collett Kate Lilley Amelia Weber

Windows of Opportunity Page 1

Windows

Windows of Opportunity

2019-2020

Editors

Hannah Collett

Kate Lilley

Amelia Weber

Club Moderator

Ms. Lenz

Contributing Writers

Dianne-Marie Abayabay

Ariella Aceves

Brooke Bosse

Hannah Collett

Isabella DiMaria

Maggie Guidone

Sophia Herrera

Nicole Kilada

Katherine Likourezos

Kate Lilley

Erin McGrath

MaryClare Okonkwo

Joelle De Poto

Ashley Ramirez

Shea Salamack

Zoë Scrivener

Kate Serpe

Reilly Souther

Stella Taglich

Nicola Teutonico

Gianna Torgersen

Jill Trembley

Amelia Weber

Art Director

Kate Lilley

Assistant Editors

Brooke Bosse

MaryClare Okonkwo

Cover Artists

Brianna Patane

Stella Taglich

Contributing Artists

Desirae Abayabay

Caitlin Fracasso

Kate Lilley

Grace Mohlin

Joelle De Poto

Shea Salamack

Zoë Scrivener

Amelia Weber

Morgan Wolf

Page 2 Windows 2019-2020

Opportunities for

Growth

“Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you.”

– Joy Harjo


Chapters

Brooke Bosse

Our lives are made out of tons of chapters.

Chapters of laughter and chapters of disasters.

Chapters under the sun at the seaside.

Chapters on planes traveling worldwide.

Chapters goofing around with friends.

Chapters with them, trying to make amends.

Chapters complaining about school.

Chapters realizing it’s pretty cool.

Chapters spent looking at a screen.

Chapters reading the newest magazine.

Dandelions in the Air

Nicola Teutonico

The green grass filled the air with a precious scent

Where else would I set up my tent?

The flower-filled fields and the sweet summer sun

Allowed me to spend my time only having fun.

I frolicked in the florals

And sung all the chorales.

I danced past a dandelion

And just felt like flyin’.

So when my day came to a close,

I had but a rose,

To bring to my mother the next morning

And tell her about the flowers that were anything

but boring.

Chapters at night going to rest.

Chapters waking up and feeling the best.

Chapters not started yet; what comes next?

It all depends on this chapter’s effects.

An Outline For My Poem

Katherine Likourezos

This shall be the first stanza.

In here I will write about everything at Mercy that has filled me with joy and laughter.

I shall make it the first part of my poem because what’s found inside is what comes to mind first

when I hear the word “Mercy.”

This will be my second stanza.

In here I will write about everything at Mercy that I have overcome,

such as long nights and tough subjects.

I grew from everything that will be listed in this stanza, and therefore it shall make my poem grow too.

The third stanza shall be blank.

It will represent the future and how being unsure of what comes next is okay.

It shall stand as a reminder to accept the beauty of the unknown.

The third stanza may appear empty and bland;

however, it is filled with opportunity.

Page Page 4 4 Windows 2019-2020

Letter to the New Year

Anonymous

As we begin this new journey, hopefully new things and surprises come with each day

We watch as moments past, time is fleeting, we must learn and always choose the right way

A new decade: more memories, more friendships, yet also more hardships

But we will persevere, great opportunities are limited like a solar eclipse

Twenty Twenty is a new beginning, the past is the past

Forgive and forget, be open, no one knows tomorrow’s forecast

Let’s say this will be a great year, free of all fears

For God gave us one life to live, fill it with many cheers

He Walks Away

Anonymous

His brown hair, his blue eyes, everything about him has you dying inside

Months and months of learning about each other’s flaws

And yet he still seems to look past the broken fence and admire the flowers in awe

Looking at his face, one smiles, looking at a true work of art

You risk it all and yet he walks away with your broken heart

Each day, learning to love him more and more

Watching with admiration as he is not afraid to be crazy with you on the dance floor

However, more time passes, he slowly changes,

Becoming more distant; the one you said you loved soon becomes a stranger

The boy you said you could trust, sits and laughs as you fall apart

You risk it all and yet he walks away with your broken heart

Goodbye is one of the hardest words to utter

The idea of losing him used to make you shutter

But now, you look at him, the feelings never completely gone

You wish him the best with the new girl for it is time to move on

A great chapter of your life has come to end, you are ready for a new one to start

You risked it all, and yet he walked away with your broken heart

Windows of Opportunity: of Opportunity: Opportunities Opportunities for Growth for Growth Page 55

outgrown

Amelia Weber

they say to grow where you are planted.

i’m the little terra cotta pot

that you left alone in that little spot

you abandoned me a mere time ago

it all happened so fast but began so slow

first you found a prettier garden

a new slant of sunlight you got to star in

and the cracks little by little began to form

above me rained the perfect storm

your roots became shallow, i felt you leaving

but i refused and continued to remain disbelieving

because you understood how it felt to be me

and have someone else tip away quietly

the worst part of all is that you act like it’s the same

and half the time i feel like i’m the one to blame

i know you would rather be with the pretty flowers

whenever i manage to find time that is ours

now i’m a little terra cotta pot with no plant

trying to move on, but i still just can’t

i’m much too afraid of finding poison ivy

and thinking of another weed too highly

they say grow where you are planted,

but they say nothing about once you have outgrown it.

life is the kind of

afternoon fog

that is heavy and

blinding and isolating,

and you

might not know where

you’re heading anymore

but know that

it is always forward.

-weathervane loneliness

Hannah Collett



Full Circle

I. D.

She was always running

I remember her laughs and her smiles

The adventures we use to go on

The places we use to go

The way she used to hug me so tightly when she scraped her knee

Whenever we left the house we left together

We were inseparable

Then the fighting started

When they used to fight she would hide with me

In her room I saw the many single tear droplets that would fall down her cheeks

I tried to comfort her but it was never enough

Over the years I saw the girl I used to know change

She grew up

She took me to her college dorm

I was in her first apartment

And when I thought that we had reached the end of our journey

When all was supposed to be done

I met another

Just like She use to be

Just smaller and more helpless

I promised to love and care for her with all of my heart

They say life comes full circle

They are right

Windows of Opportunity: of Opportunities Opportunities for Growth for Growth Page 7


Opportunities to

Speak

“I take a deep breath and sidestep my fear and begin speaking

from the place where beauty and bravery meet--within the

chambers of a quivering heart.”

–Terry Tempest Williams


i think i’ve

taken to

using “you” in my

poems because it’s

easier than distinguishing

“he” from “she”

when i write about love;

easier than

worrying about

what it might mean

to people who

bother to read

into it.

When the Static Sings

K. Lilley

There’s a time in my day when the static starts to sing;

It could be 12:00, it could be 9:00, all that matters is its ring.

It's never around others, eardrums bursting from the noise;

Its when my house is silent my thoughts wander away from joy.

It's almost like my conscience is scared to leave me alone,

That if it steps out of my head it’ll return to an empty home.

But I promise i'm not leaving, i'm not going anywhere

Because there's nothing left right now, only my blank stare.

-pronouns,

Hannah Collett

Do you believe?

I.D.

Belief is a tricky subject

One that is hard to find an answer to

It can be a beautiful and wonderful thing

But it can be used against people

To defile and dehumanize them

Just because of Belief

What makes it so dangerous?

Why does it pit people against people?

It is something that is different within each person

But everyone has something they believe in

Whether or not they share it, it dwells within them

It can be used to unite people or to bring them to their knees

It’s what makes us human

Whether or not we welcome it

It is always there



Wordsmith

Anonymous

Speak

And make them understand

Why people first started to pray

Aloud

Speak

And make them remember

How they believed

Oceans could be calmed

Forests burned

With spells

Speak

And Let your words drip

from sugared lips

Like molasses

Speak

And Let your voice rise up

To make the earth tremble

At its sound

Speak

Even if your

Lungs burn,

Throat aches,

Lips bleed,

And your voice is little more

than a whisper

Speak

Until they hear what you have to say

And question

How they’ve ignored it for so long

City of Trees

Shea Salamack

Oh how I’d love

To be in a city of trees,

Where we all stand tall

With the grand oaks and the evergreens,

Where we all have pretty leaves and long branches

And with the breeze comes our dreams.

Where Weeping Beech says “smellin’ fresh, ol’ Pine,”

And Pine responds “aw thanks, your gown of leaves is just divine.”

And Ficus chimes in, “you know, today I feel small.”

And the Redwood says “well I feel too tall.”

And Maple says “don’t worry guys, size isn’t all!

Ficus, your leaves have shine,

And Redwood, you’re the king of the skyline!”

“Aw thanks, Maple, I’m flattered,

I don’t know what to say!

I’m flushing and my responses are all scattered,

I’m thinking of a way.”

Maple replied, “How about your syrup is sweet.”

“Tis,” said Birch, “and my bark is unique!”

“Hey guys,” said young Sycamore.

“We’re all so great!

We help things to breathe oxygen galore.”

“You’re right, Sycamore!” said Palm.

“How ya’ feelin, Willow?”

“I’m weeping, like usual.”

“You have more friends than you know, bro.”

“Aw thanks, Mr. Palm, you’re a tropical oasis!”

And Palm replied

“Willow, ol’ pal, you know we’re on a first-name basis.”

Then Aspen said, “It’s autumn, trees,

And together

Most of us say goodbye to our leaves.

The coniferous ones will keep our grove green.

Now let’s all rest together,

Differences aside,

Into winter’s gleam.”

Well, that is what I would hear in a city of trees.

Windows of Opportunity: Opportunities to Speak Page 11


“I am”

Erin McGrath

I am seventeen years old.

I am a Sagittarius.

I am a messy thinker.

I am a Long Islander.

I am curious.

I am a terrible texter, just ask all of my friends that I have accidentally ignored.

I am a New Yorker and proud.

I am a football fan (Go Giants!).

I am my brother’s favorite sister and my parents’ favorite daughter.

I am a little too honest.

I am a morning person, but only on the weekends.

I am a beach lover.

I am a licensed New York State boater.

I am an admirer of sunflowers and of stars.

I am a realist with the heart of a dreamer and a head of a cynic.

I am always ready for adventure.

I am Irish and Italian.

I am a McGrath, a Johnson, a Mannino, and a Puleo.

I am independent to a fault.

I am indecisive, always.

I am Erin Elizabeth McGrath.



When the August Dies

Joelle de Poto

The sounding buzz from lazy hues

The mellow tone of hazy blues,

Melt eyes so gold, the molten sun,

Flies murmur in their midnight run;

And wind stays mute, a blessed sigh,

The summer blue as mountains high.

In fields of rye, the cherubs run,

A dampened birdsong hastens none.

And foals are born in bright July,

Fools make amends in new Versailles;

Will crickets dare to whisper you

Their cordial hymn, their subtle coo?

Yet half past noon the August dies,

No “Quelle surprise!” or dull goodbyes.

How dark will be the dead of night?

Just howling winds and birds in flight

And lazy reds and reborn deads,

And so till June, I dare to tread

the power of girl

Reilly Souther

the power of girl

should it be equated

to the beauty, the helpfulness, the cleanliness, the presence of mind

is Her one place in the home, in the apron, by the stove

are Her opinions drowned out by a fan’s buzzing roar

is there a limit to what She could try and be

or does a woman’s power run deeper than society may see?

is Her fate still decided by a man with a sword

is She still just an object or maybe something more

can She speak Her mind and feel unjudged

is girlhood a prison, with strong iron rungs?

or is female not inferior

are the dark ages the past

does a girl have the right to choose

does She have the right to be, the right to see, the right to

Make Her dreams a reality





Opportunities to

Dream

“Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which

escape those who dream only by night.”

– Edgar Allan Poe


He Clipped My Wings

Anonymous

He clipped my wings I cannot fly

So on the ground I stay

And up upon the dirt I lie

Below the day of grey

The soaring skies were once so blue

And free for me to roam

But now just a world to endlessly pursue

Down on the ground, alone.

Oh, the freedom! The power in solitude!

Her cautionary words still rung in my ear

As I rose, climbing altitude,

Escaping the danger so near.

He could not clip my wings I can still fly

Empowered by her words

I soar into the boundless sky

On my own terms, forever onwards.

And so upon the earth I wait

For Him to fly back in return

Hoping that today’s the date

While I infinitely yearn

But as I laid upon the ground

A shadow projected before me

And as I got up and looked around

My future I did before me see.

A girl, who took me into her palm

And brought me back with her

She fixed my cuts and scars with balm

And offered to me her shelter.

For many moons I lived and healed

Under her watchful gaze to thrive

Until the day my wings to be revealed

And I could again soar in the sky

The day arrived to say goodbye

And she encouraged me and threw

Threw me into the sky.

And, oh, the wonderful azure!

How badly I’ve missed you!

The currents guiding my weak body to reassure

As, for the first time since then, I flew.

I met Him again one day

Within the blue I again learned to call home.

He tried to clip my wings again that day

But I dodged and ran off alone.

The Window Outside

Kate Serpe

A boring day in class, no escape in sight.

My eyes are wandering, try though I might.

A window catches my glance,

Suddenly, I am in a trance.

A world outside this dreary class.

With flowers, trees, and plenty of grass.

Beautiful birds and squirrels hanging in the

trees

Oh, how I long to hear the breeze.

A world outside the window

Where I long to go

A voice snaps me out of the trance

Focus! You are in class!

Page 16 Page 16 Windows 2019-2020 2019-2020

Do you Believe

R.J.S

Do you believe?

In the power of love and joy

Or is something darker drawing you near?

Does hope blossom from your soul like water burbling up in a stream

Or does it sink into Charybdis

Can you see the light in even the darkest days,

Can you make sun when weather is inclement?

Or do you wallow in despair

Is life only to be lived in happy times, do we quit when things are tough?

Do we believe in the power of perseverance, and keep going when things are rough

Do we believe, have faith?

Do we know in our life we will achieve great?

Do we have hope for a better world and the urge to work for it

Or do we surrender, letting life lead us on

Nary the answer, we go on and on

Life is what you make of it. Have faith.

11:11

Brooke Bosse

My eyes wait in anticipation

For something so simple, so ordinary:

To watch this ten turn into eleven.

But to me, it’s something so extraordinary.

I hold my breath and do not blink

In fear of missing it because it happens quick.

My thoughts move fast and I try to link

What I really want, but it’s hard to pick.

I glance at my clock once more,

And a number ten stares back at me.

In my head, my thoughts still soar

As I take a breath and count to three.

On three, I watch the big number switch

As I look up to Heaven and make my 11:11 wish.

Windows of Opportunity: Opportunities to Dream Page 17

Windows of Opportunity: Opportunities to Dream Page 17

cotton candy clouds

Amelia Weber

it’s true that i see the sky

with dark and jaded eyes

as scary and mysterious

something i dare not defy

but sometimes i wish i could

see it as completely good

no troubles or fears in sight

i try because i know i should

and once every blue moon

i float up high in a hot air balloon

see all the beauty and all the life

and feel the bright sun of the afternoon

and when the light dips past that line

the beauty of the earth and sky’s design

cotton candy clouds appear

and seemingly all the stars align

Feelings

Anonymous

I should be embarrassed by my portrait:

The faint pictures of roses on my cheeks

On my cheeks droplets of rain from my eyes.

The cracking of fire from my eyes, in my voice.

But life only becomes so vibrant,

Vibrant, only when I let go of it all

And when I let go of a better dream,

And welcome reality’s hard truth.

As reality’s hard truth makes me feel,

And to feel— to finally understand,

Understand how everything is here

And at the same time how everything isn’t.

So you shouldn’t be ashamed of a similar portrait,

Because finally you get to feel and understand

And finally after all that you get to live,

A better dream, now tangible in your hands.



Step into the Daylight

Amelia Weber

Step into the Daylight,

And leave your shadow behind you.

Overcome your troubles and frights,

And find happiness in everything you do.

Step out of the Darkness,

And see what the world has to bring:

The good and the bad in all its starkness.

Let all the colors of the world sing.

Step out of your head,

And choose another path to go down.

Forget your doubts and regrets, instead

Of searching for the pool of water to drown.

Step into your life that’s yours,

And see yourself through a new set of eyes.

Open the curtains and walk out the door,

And brave yourself as in front of you, the whole world lies.

Step into the Daylight,

And let it go.

Just let it go.

Because it’s brighter now.

Untitled

Sophia Herrera

the sun

worn moon

looks tired.

i wonder if

she is sick of

always being a mirror

for something

brighter.

on these nights,

i mistake fireflies

for shooting stars

and never stop

to correct myself.

and the moon will

keep me company

as we both can’t seem to sleep.

-mistakes,

Hannah Collett

Clearly, this isn’t all that there is.

Life gets repetitive;

There is a time when these places feel too familiar.

The soul wants to roam

To places far and wide,

To places unknown to mankind.

Whether it be across the world

Or in the deepest, darkest part of the mind,

Anywhere to get out of this loop.

A dream a night

To take the soul to the place closest to the heart

Because everyday life is a grim reminder that,

Clearly, there’s more to life than just this.

Windows Windows of Opportunity: of Opportunity: Opportunities Opportunities to Dream to Dream Page Page 19 19

Untitled

Anonymous

she often feels too much

her heart is drenched in panic

and her eyes are flooding with pain

her hands are hurting from

clenching her fists for so long

she's panicking

so she says

"it's often better to feel nothing than to feel everything"

and then she is empty.

she often feels empty

she feels numb to the world around her

she feels as if she is in a dream

dazed and confused

un-remorseful and yet unable

to do anything about it

so she says

"it's often better to feel something than to feel nothing"

and then she is full.



Missed

Opportunities

“The only way of catching a train I have ever discovered is to miss

the train before.”

– G.K. Chesterton


A New Dawn

I. D.

They say that every day has a new dawn

That every cloud has a silver lining

I use to believe that

Basically lived by it and to a certain extent I still do

But now it’s different

I have felt the pain

I use to keep it tucked away under lock and key

Bolted behind a door of solid steel

But it leaked out

I made a mistake and let someone in

I opened the door and let it happen

I don’t know why I didn’t see it coming

I felt the knife in my back before I could even realize what happened

It was the worse than any pain I had ever felt before

Now when I see the dawn it doesn’t look new

It looks bleak and dire

I look to see it every day

And no matter how much time passes

It still looks broken

Ashley Ramirez

A Pile of Letters

A thousand words can be written down about how I feel for you

Yet you pay no attention to it

I can form them into rhyme, in a haiku

In a pic collage or simply add stickers for some decorative fun

Word for word

Phrase after phrase

Every feeling that is deep within my soul

I pour out on these pages

What must I do to gain your focus?

How many letters must I write for a reply?

Every letter that I send

Only returns indicating that

This is the end

The love, the hatred I feel towards you

That leads me to write you all these letters

The hellos and goodbyes are useless

Now I say thank you

Thank you for your nonexistent replies

For leading me on with nothing but hope and fantasy

Thank you, for giving me the chance to realize

They were just words



Somewhere in Northern Italy

Joelle de Poto

Somewhere in Northern Italy,

A couple miles from France,

A new world is awaiting me

That’s filled with song and dance.

With tunes on piano and guitar

And bounties of fresh peaches,

Moon-drenched pools are not so far,

Sunlight warms all that she reaches.

In Italy, there’s a family,

Among them, love abounds.

A home in them, a traveler sees,

He wanders along their grounds.

Winds of romance sift through the air

To meet midnight rendezvous.

Late-night poetry in the town square,

And skipping without shoes.

But a midsummer is not forever,

The air is not so sweet,

But still I envy whomever

Stands with the grass beneath his feet.

Paramour

Anonymous

I know he’s only playing a part when we’re together on stage,

Yet it’s only after the curtain closes that I realize I’m a phase.

But if I’m only an infatuation - fascination - simple delight,

Then tell me why you think of me when you’re up late at night.

It’s in your fearing to hurt anyone you decided to hurt me most,

Hence your labeling me “lovesick” is a relationship misdiagnosed;

So stop calling it a chemical imbalance that made you start to like me,

Since you know it was hours of sharing secrets, not drugs from an IV.

And please stop talking about our affection like it’s some disease:

A sinful thing that we contracted; an affliction ignoring our pleas.

The truth is that what you uttered wasn’t a cry out for help;

It was only the way you found to rid guilt from yourself,

Frankly, I’m not the other woman, I’m not standing in her place.

It’s the truth about your feelings - who you want - you can’t face.

I dare you to keep blaming the universe that she doesn’t know,

Because it was the both of us who let our feelings grow.

So next time that you see me, don’t come up and say “we’re fine!”,

Because you made something hellish that could’ve been divine.

Windows of Opportunity: Missed Opportunities Page 23

Windows of Opportunity: Missed Opportunities Page 23

How Delicate

MaryClare Okonkwo

I caught you up in my arms as you fell into Life

Your footsteps drifted like a dream

As I taught you this Dance

Your laughter filled the air as you floated freely

Hand in hand we walked our dreams

Until the sun came down on us

All too quickly it seemed

That Life had passed us

Oh, you, my snowflake in July

That nature had so beautifully misplaced

A Lesson From Me to You

Ashley Ramirez

You who had danced so delicately through Life

Melted away in my hands

As our footsteps marked the sand

For a Dance we would never do again

A clock ticks and tocks

The sun rises and sets

Time continues, despite our indisposition

It flows like how water does in a stream

We can not change the decisions that have already been made

There is only forward

Although it is good to look on your past mistakes,

Focus on what you want to do

Learn a new language

Dance in the rain

Fly a plane

Accomplish them

Do not regret a single thing that you have done

For all of them make you who you are

What people want from you and what they need from you are very different

Do not let others take control of your life

Be your courageous, independent, intelligent and beautiful self

You are worth so much more than you could ever realize

Pass this from one to another,

Nothing is greater than the power of unity

Scream it at the top of your lungs

Own it, for it is truth

Finally, let it be

A lesson from me to you



Grandpa and His Grapes

MaryClare Okonkwo

My grandpa had always sat in the same rickety old oakwood chair in front of the little window in the

back parlor. He didn’t allow anything in that room except a small iron table, that I think was once red, and an

old porcelain bowl. I never knew which one was older: the chair or grandpa. I think they were about the same.

The only fresh thing in that room was the grapes. Every day in grandpa’s old porcelain bowl, there were

exactly twelve grapes: all shining, all green. Every day, Grandpa would eat all the grapes except one and the

next day there would be exactly twelve grapes as if they hadn’t been moved at all. No one ever went to visit

Grandpa, not that he would allow it. He had always said that the youth would age him too quickly, but I don’t

think grandpa seemed to notice that I was a youth too. Come to think of it, grandpa didn’t seem to notice a lot

of things: not when the months changed from 1 to 12, not when I grew from 12 to 20, not when the members of

the house went from 12 to 2. Grandpa just sat there and ate his grapes in his old rickety chair with his back to

the little window. It seemed to me that Grandpa was trying to outlast time or just his grapes. I remember the

last time I saw that back parlor before I left that house on Twelfth Street for good. There was the rusted little

iron table, the ancient porcelain bowl, the rickety old oakwood chair with its back to the little window, exactly

twelve grapes: all shining, all green. I left that room just as Grandpa had always wanted with a color portrait of

Grandpa sitting on the old rickety seat.

Windows of Opportunity: of Opportunity: Missed Missed Opportunities Opportunities Page 25

25


Endless

Opportunities

“And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim

or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know

what is.’”

– Kurt Vonnegut


my heart,

like my hands, is soft and

calloused. it stumbles,

contradicts itself,

and carries on. and it is many more:

brave and questioning and

forceful. it is haunting

and jumping and doubting and loving and

it is looking itself in the eye with a hard stare and

sympathetic smile.

and the constellations write new stories and songs,

ones in my memory.

Generalizations

K. Lilley

I was once told that specifics

Were essential to a popular verse,

Since without painting a clear picture

There’s no emotions an author can nurse.

But sometimes I think artists forget

That generalizations can be beautiful too;

Otherwise why write so many poems

‘bout how the sky is such a clear blue.

they are painting the sky into

something more beautiful

than i had ever been,

but something every bit as beautiful as they wished

i had believed i was.

-Whitman,

Hannah Collett

Tired of the Familiar

Sophia Herrera

Clearly, this isn’t all that there is.

Life gets repetitive;

There is a time when these places feel too familiar.

The soul wants to roam

To places far and wide,

To places unknown to mankind.

Whether it be across the world

Or in the deepest, darkest part of the mind,

Anywhere to get out of this loop.

A dream a night

To take the soul to the place closest to the heart

Because everyday life is a grim reminder that,

Clearly, there’s more to life than just this.

My two cents: a haiku

Z. Scrivener

received as lunch change

but worth twenty seven cents

my arabic coin.



Do you believe… ?

Anonymous

You out of nowhere asked "do you believe"?

Expecting a simple answer from me

Didn't ask in terms of fairies,

ghost stories or camaraderies,

Miracles, Santa, superstition,

Aliens, politics, or religion

Or how the Earth was made and how it will die,

So I gave a loosely strung reply:

"I know nothing of the supernatural

Everything I experience seems so casual

It often feels like someone watches me

I still don't know if that's comforting

I don't know much of political fights

To pick a side fit to my rights

And if my friends truly like my company

Is still an unknown fear to me."

But then you said, "Do you believe that the sky

Above there, angels weep and cry?"

I know that angels are said to fly,

Messengers sent from far up high

They watch everything with pure hearts

Sometimes matchmake lovers with darts

If an angel were to descend down here,

would they react with earthly fear?

Over distrust, anger, sorrow,

corruption and fear of unpredictable tomorrow

All these things are so rampant

Like twisted notes of an old trumpet

Not by the devil, but by humans themselves

Those who treat others like lowly elves

This is normal life for me

Like an unfair everyday harmony

You walk and stop

Maggie Guidone

You walk and stop

With the wind in the trees

And a book in your hand

You walk

Your mind races

Your body aches

You walk

The birds are chirping

The church bells are ringing

You stop

You hear the bells

They are soft

You smile

With the wind in the trees

And a book in your hand

You walk again

Eyes looking to the sky

The blue surrounds you

Fluffy clouds covering certain spots

A glare shines off the wing and you squint

Your swimming in the blue water of the sky

Deep water fish flying miles below.

You swim deeper

And deeper

And deeper

Eyes looking to the sky

So to finally answer, "Yes, I believe.

If I was an angel, I would surely weep."

Windows of Opportunity: Endless Opportunities Page 291

Windows of Opportunity: Endless Opportunities Page 29

My faith: the dust in

The air on a

Sunny day,

Only caught

In the shyness of a

Certain light,

Blown away at an

Exhale.

Something that

You need the

Brightness to see properly,

Something only noticed with a

Little bit of luck and a

Watchful eye.

- looking

Hannah Collett

Home

Brooke Bosse

There truly is no place like Home.

Home doesn’t have to be an actual place.

Despite everything you’ve been through, no matter what you’ve done, you always have Home to return to.

Laughing with your best friends over a silly joke on the weekend.

Replaying your favorite video game for the thousandth time.

Eating your all-time favorite food.

Spending time and playing with your lively pets.

Attending family gatherings and catching up with your relatives.

Listening to old music you used to love years ago.

Rereading your favorite book and reliving all its exciting moments.

Going to the beach for the first time during the summer.

Watching the first snowfall of the season.

Baking tasty treats with your loved ones.

Hugging your favorite childhood stuffed animal.

Writing a poem.

Home gives us a warm, welcoming, fuzzy feeling inside that nothing else can give us.

We all wish we can live inside these moments of Home forever.

It’s okay if you miss Home because you can always find your way back.

Page Page 230 30 Windows Windows 2019-2020

2019-2020

The End

Nicole Kilada

There once was a school called Mercy.

Large bags the students carried.

The first day I walked in,

I could barely lift my chin,

But now it is not so scary.

There once was a school called OLMA.

It had quite an indescribable persona.

Day after day,

No matter what came our way,

We never gave up (despite ebOLMA).

There once was a school called “the Academy”.

At times it did feel like agony.

From the towers of books,

To the languid and sleepy looks,

But I’d go through it all again, honestly.

There once was a school I called my family.

One that I wished away sadly.

I couldn’t wait to say goodbye,

But now it’s likely I might cry,

At the thought of it ending so rapidly.

There once was a school I attended.

The people there were quite splendid.

Although it’s rather scary,

To leave it all so momentarily,

I know my memories will be never ending


Windows Lit Mag 2020

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