Children Are Invisible Fliers

I am on a mission to exterminate pride because my teacher challenged me to. She said that I couldn’t; I promised I would, and that’s exactly what I planned to do. And so I walked with my chest&nbsp; through the tedious school hall, determination plastered on my face. Until a sharp elbow hit me&nbsp; On the blade of my shoulder&nbsp; and I turned around to see Grace. She scowled and groaned “Who do you think you are?’ So I raised my head slightly and said I’m a dangerous assassin; an undercover spy Matter of fact, I think I’ll have you dead.

And then I walked off&nbsp; victorious and mighty. What a fool that Grace must be to think she could even come close to becoming&nbsp; as pretty or smart as me. And then the people cheered and hollered my name&nbsp; and threw rose petals at my feet&nbsp; But my walk was still measured and slow And- Oh, what’s that you ask? Right, pride. Wait, what does that mean again?

"For the children, they mark, and the children, they know The place where the sidewalk ends." — Shel Silverstein

Somebody swallowed my birthday. Now, I don’t know how old I am. I could be seven or thirty-eight. I could play catch or be late for my date. I could pretend to drive race cars or sip bitter wine and smoke thick cigars. I could laugh and giggle at cartoons on TV or keep a stern frown and grow a goatee. But I don't know which ones to do and that’s kind of the problem. They have swallowed it whole and fast; when I asked for it they said “All gone.” And now everything has gone out of whack, my age is gone and I can’t get it back, because somebody swallowed my birthday.

Does a mother wolf love her pups? A question answered in actions. Her body moves in service to them. Leaning her right paw on an acerbic wit. The wood is her third&nbsp; dwelling place. The cave is her second, the cold rock&nbsp; dripping miseries onto her ears, her pups nestling under her shield. In the lull of twilight, a wreckoning occurs. Like clockwork, thousands of blades&nbsp; nip at her underside and suck out every spirit within her temple, ripping her to shreds until she becomes the prey that she once hunted.

Then she escapes back to the wood&nbsp; and consumes 2 rabbits 2 squirrels and a forgiving house sparrow. She is ready to return to the litter and at the foot of the cave, the foot of a tribulation, her trembling snout pushes on.

(Strum C, A, F, G) [1 round] [C]&nbsp;The tears you cried on your wedding day, [A]&nbsp;were they truly happy? Or sad? [F]&nbsp;Is this the man you’d love for life? [G]&nbsp;Or were you passed down by your dad? [C]&nbsp;What were your goals, your dreams, your wishes, [A]&nbsp;before you had me with him? [F]&nbsp;I get to do what you never got to. [G]&nbsp;I'm scared to think it’s a sin. [C]&nbsp;I remember the nights where we had KFC [A]&nbsp;because that’s all we could afford. [F]&nbsp;And I know you don’t like to think of the memories; [G]&nbsp;the ones of when we were poor. [C]&nbsp;But I want you to know that I never knew it [A]&nbsp;cause’ your love was so strong [F]&nbsp;You’re the mom. You’re the dad. You’re the aunts in between. [G]&nbsp;You bring the life to this song. [1 round + C]

(F = Gm1m2/r2) 0 = Everything

Zero Gravity Zone, the ad read. It consumed me slowly, pushing me out of reality where I sat criss cross applesauce on my Dora the Explorer blanket; my bottom sinking into the earth. I wanted to fly because flying is fun; not because I anticipated the future. The pressure on my head and shoulders. Earth’s cynical pull to it’s fiery core. The failed attempts of 7.8 billion flyers. I wanted to fly because&nbsp; flying would make Tag, like, so much cooler; not because I desired to achieve the impossible. Snap the chain forever. Hop into a rocket, zoom off into space, and leave my kind behind. I wanted to fly because flying meant&nbsp; nothing. But, now,&nbsp;I never want to because flying is everything.

I am a poet who likes to explore themes of childhood and innocence in forms of children’s poems, abstract poems, and spoken word. I enjoy all types of creative writing but I have a special love for poetry. The way themes and details can be packed in a short piece of writing enchants me. As a young child, I loved to write poems and short stories but as the pressure to focus on career paths and goals in life grew, I let my passion and a little part of myself go. However, my sophomore year English class was just the right nudge I needed to pick up my pencil once again. We explored short stories, novels, and poems of styles that were foreign to me and inspired me to begin writing for fun again. Now, I try to create pieces that I hope can inspire others as well. I am a junior at Watkinson School, and I participate in clubs like Ravens &amp; Titans, a student of color affinity group and La Familia, a Latino student affinity group. I’m a Varsity captain of the girls volleyball team, and I recently received the Courtney Mary Blowers writing award. I was born in Lechería, Venezuela and moved to Connecticut in 2009. Some of my favorite things to do are spending time with friends, playing sports (specifically volleyball), and watching interesting National Geographic videos on Youtube.

Children is vital&nbsp; but one day&nbsp; Children will bleed out she’ll scrape her knee&nbsp; playing hopscotch&nbsp; on the blacktop hoping for a band aid maybe a hug only to be left with piercing words&nbsp; ringing in her ears Children will sit there&nbsp; whole but helpless cradling his body in prayers of mercy looking up at me&nbsp; with unknowing eyes and I’ll turn my back and say “Children, it’s time to grow up.”

Children is not mine to disrupt but I do wielding and warping his mind desperately trying to rid Children&nbsp; of his childness Children does not speak in ciphers&nbsp; that I have to decode Children speaks&nbsp; through megaphones on top of every landmark reciting my resolutions defenselessly awaiting my open fire Children is unaware of her value and so am I unaware of her cement between our tectonic plates

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