Overwhelmed
by Jac Layton-Brown I’ve never been so overwhelmed before. I’ve never felt so calm yet stressed at the same time before. Things have been affecting my community, the Black Community, for so long. I feel as if I’ve become numb to it all. I’ve grown up seeing it. I’ve grown up hearing about it. I’ve grown up being afraid of it. Lately I’ve been silent. I was affected but I was silent. But once I spoke out, everything that I’ve worried about, everything that I’ve tried to inform others of, has poured out. All the pain, all the anguish, all the sadness, I feel it all. And it’s so much to feel. Jac is a Junior at Franklin High School. She is an active member of Epiphany.
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Fighting Fire
Alicia May Niehaus There is a fire burning And it seems to never go out Its burning red embers always spreading And will continue without a doubt There are those who will just stand and stare Watching as the flames tear the world apart Thinking it pointless to even care They let others play their part Then there are those who will fight fire with fire Who think they could put out its heated rage Instead they only make the situation more dire Since all they do is enlarge its stage. Finally there are those who choose to fight with water They are the only ones who can keep its heat at bay In this case, the strength of the inferno will never matter Because even a drop can send it’s flames astray. There is a fire burning And it seems to never go out Its burning red embers always spreading And will continue without a doubt Alicia May Niehaus is a Senior. She wrote this poem for Ms. Barbour's Poetry Today Elective Course. Protest Poem: Final Words from Lost Mothers
by Kenaisia Sherrod Could it be, perhaps, if I wasn’t me, if this skin wasn’t dark, would you allow me to breathe? Would I have a chance to open my eyes again, do what I’m used to, and leave not with just two, but the "new three”? I can feel the simmering of my blood turn into a rapid boil In your kind, I’ve placed my trust To nurture the seed in the fertile soil But you misled us, you misled the trust, you took my all from me and me from my all And my husband had to watch this process of my breathing drastically fall Am I just another black woman y’all hate Please tell me this isn’t what it seems to be, this isn’t my fate Stop telling our families you’re sorry for their lost because you prematurely labeled this case as “too late” Fire in my belly, my feet are swelling, tell me you could fix this, I know you can save me Instead of watching me die, as I hear the cries of my newborn baby The most beautiful noise I’ve ever heard, to hear that noise, I deserve And your comfortability in taking such happiness from me is what makes it worse When I was younger, I wanted to be just like you, do what you do, tell patients what you knew But if this is it, I don’t want it, I don’t want to be you To think of the black mothers you let die this way, this place is haunted, I don’t want it! All the black babies you dropped on their heads Tell their parents what you want and declared them dead because of a mistake you made instead And it’s the same thing every time A black mother laying in this bed, both her, her family and her newborn baby crying Difference is, the baby’s hurting, daddy’s terrified cause his baby and his lover’s dying I’m screaming out help me and you’re busy trying to tell me to shut up, that I’m so wrong “You don’t know what you’re talking about, you’re confused” But I knew I felt these pains all along! Belittling me because the black woman tries to appear so strong We put on this act because this world made us feel as though we don’t belong Yet all of our hearts are the same instruments, even if they don’t play the same song All I ask, give my baby and I the chance, in unison to breathe To see what other families get to see, to be Don’t allow your misdirected hatred take everything from me Kenaisia is a Senior. She wrote this poem for Ms. Barbour's Poetry Today Elective Course. Protest Poem
by Damien The criminal injustice system Full of lies, misconception and deception A man that could be innocent, but nobody is with him Don’t get me wrong the accuser should be given faith But there are two sides to every story Discrimination and straight up bias Ending lives not quick but gory No wonder people run when those flashing lights meet their eyes We need a new age Atticus Ethical policing Mental training for those who decide the future of us Injustice decreasing It’s draining the fear of the corrupt fuzz After hundreds of years haven’t we had enough Criminals are free, while the innocent are locked away Manipulating the system, lying under oath Ruining someone’s life till they can no longer cope Destruction of reputation All because of one statement The criminal “justice” system or what’s left of it. Damien is a sophomore. He wrote this poem for Ms. Barbour's Poetry Today Elective. He enjoys writing music in his spare time. Villanelle
Alicia May Niehaus Give me a reason to keep on fighting Tell me that this war isn’t worth nothing Show me that our actions aren’t just inciting. It seems that our actions are just rewriting The countless battles fought to prevent more brawling. Give me a reason to keep on fighting. To the ghosts of past men who died to protect their death from repeating I’m sorry if you can hear the guns behind me racing Won’t someone show me that our actions aren’t just inciting. This all seems that we’re just reciting The same story that history keeps telling If you could then, give me a reason to keep on fighting Maybe the papers in the end will give us something. Too bad its red ink that makes the writing Show me that our actions aren’t just inciting. We fight with each other in hopes of uniting We rip off each other's arms off with hope that in the end our hands will be shaking. Please give me a reason to keep on fighting Show me that our actions aren’t just inciting. Alicia May Niehaus is a Senior. She wrote this poem for Ms. Barbour's Poetry Today Elective Course. A performance poem by
Bobo Au-Yeung, Ashley, Megan Baab Bobo: Columbine, April 20, 1999. Ashley: Sandy Hook, December 14, 2012. Megan: Parkland, February 14, 2018. Bobo: Two months before, I told my mother, “I’m not shy anymore.” And I wonder, Why, now, two months after I said those words Can somebody answer? Answer this question of why I had to leave with a herd Of 14 other people, Two of whom caused this mess. I faded away like a weak maple tree, Chopped down because there was less land Than wanted by greedy hands at 11:20. Ashley: “Bye mom, Bye dad, I LOVE YOU!” Skipping to my bus, Ready to see my friends. 9:30am, the doors locked. Shots fired “don’t scream” “Mom, Dad?” Kids crying, 20 friends dead, 6-7 years old. 6 teachers, protecting my and others lives. “POP” one last shot, he was dead. Firehouse is where we went, Parents crying, Kids crying. “MOM, DAD I so scared.” “Its okay honey.” Megan: Valentine’s Day. A day where love is celebrated And shared between family and friends. Where we hold our loved ones close And appreciate the bonds we share. So why was this day filled with so much hate? Gunshots fired, Sending everyone into a panic. Questions speed through our heads, Will my friends be safe? Will I be safe? For some, unfortunately, The answer was no. STOP! Bobo: We ask for peace in this world, But we can’t have it if this keeps happening. Ashley: We are losing lives, Not knowing when we are next. Megan: We should not have to fear going to school, Our families shouldn’t have to worry whenever we leave. This has to end. Megan is very creative and enjoys producing multiple forms of art. She writes, draws, and plays piano. She enjoys contributing to Epiphany and helping out with it as much as she can. Bobo is self-described as "a Taurus-- pretty stubborn and not the most mature; pretty indecisive about a lot of things." She is also pretty determined when she makes up her mind. She likes asking looping, confusing questions and baking cookies. Ashley is a student in Ms. Barbour's Poetry Today class. She likes math. [This assignment was originally written for a Performance Poetry Assignment in the Poetry Today Elective.] #BLM
by Amy Montoya first thing's first rest in peace to all my young black folks out there trynna make a living but constantly having to LIVE in fear that one day they will be added to the list. the list of hundreds and hundreds of teens dying because of the color of their SKIN. the gunshots loud enough to scare off a whole city of adolescents. the gun shouts loud enough to make our bodies shiver. the gunshots loud enough to scare our careers our dreams out of us. the gunshots that will always be heard unless something is done. until justice really is for all. i pledge allegiance to the government that won’t let my innocent brother, cousin, father, uncle, go. won’t let them free. they did not mean to do any harm. the color of their skin is not a sin. it is not illegal for them to be them. did y’all hear me in the back-- i said it is NOT illegal for them to be them. how many more people need to die--? how many more hashtags need to be made for there to be a change--? white policemen are murdering our future generation. our future doctors, mechanics, technicians, fathers, lawyers. are you gonna stand up to your policemen? or are you just gonna sit there and watch? Amy is a Junior at FHS. She enjoys writing in her free time. She wants to become a writer at Rutgers University. "Micro-aggressions"
by Alyssa B. “You don’t act Hispanic”, they say. As if they is a universal personality for Hispanics? As if we don’t have 22 different countries with millions of people? 22 different countries filled with different religions, cultures, and histories Yet, because I rather I prefer not to act “crazy”, dress provocatively, and be loud at all hours, I am not Hispanic enough for you “Are you the first in your family to go to college?”, they ask As if they expected me to tell them my mother dropped out of high school due to a teen pregnancy As if she isn’t currently pursuing her master’s degree Yet, you expect us Hispanics to not strive for the same excellence you easily attain, We are not smart enough for you “Is she illegally here?”, they wonder As if we’ve all had to cross the border, risking lives to get here As if we’ve all had to travel the waters in boats, risking drowning to get here As if our only possible way to attain citizenship is with a green card marriage As if we do not deserve to be in this country just as much as you and your immigrant ancestors did hundreds of years ago Yet, you expect us all to smuggle drugs, be criminals, or rapists because your recent president-elect says that’s so, We are not American enough for you Yet, here we stand united as one because my people have contributed to this country’s history just as much as yours Alyssa is a senior. She will be studying Forensics and Criminal Justice at Saint Peter's University in the Fall. Breathe
By Marcos Montgomery A car rolls on by going so slow with windows tinted so no faces would show in my chest I could feel my anxiety grow my brother says don't worry but sweat soaks my clothes The same car passes again but big brother grips his gun and his patients is thin and then the gunshots begin big brother drops as soon as the first bullet pierces the skin Breathe big brother please I can't let you leave I try to cover the wound and as he clenches my sleeve Breathe big brother because I don't know what to do all I wish is that I knew how to help you Breathe big brother I don't want you to go it just won't feel right when I borrow your clothes Breathe big brother out through the mouth and in through the nose he hasn't got much time I see the twitch in his toes Breathe big brother no don't let go his grip begins to fade but his eyes don't close Marcos is a senior. He wants to attend Julliard to become a ballerina. When he is being realistic, he enjoys making his phone bark. (Really, he is a talented poet and writer who plans on continuing to write for the rest of his life, or until his phone dies.) A Dream For Tomorrow
By Natasha Ishaq When the house burns down And the residents weep When the bombs explode And the children loose sleep Who are the ones left behind? To dream of a better tomorrow Where someone may come to heal their sorrow Far away someone cries into the night As they are lashed and beaten to their own little grave And not too far away the child lies on the floor Longing for something to fill the hunger And right next door Another mourns and grieves for reasons unknown And they know how it hurts To feel all alone They know how it hurts To feel as if your fighting on your own When the house burns down And the residents weep When the bombs explode And the children loose sleep Who are the ones left behind? To dream of a better tomorrow When someone may come to heal their sorrow One chapter ends, but another begins So who will turn the page with me? One day ends, but eternity thrives So who will stay with me? Because we all should know how it hurts To feel all alone We all should know how it hurts To feel as if your fighting on your own When the house burns down And the residents weep When the bombs explode And the children lose sleep Who are the ones left behind? To dream of a better tomorrow Natasha is a ninth grader. She enjoys writing and performing poetry in her free time. She enjoys writing for the greater benefit of others. |
About Epiphany
Epiphany Literary Magazine is a safe space for students at Franklin High School to share their creativity. Archives '16-'20
June 2020
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