By Joseph Capuno
Still waters run deep;
I set myself in to motion,
As water begins to creep through
Like a single drop in the ocean.
Steady yet enduring,
My stream begins to grow.
Like a child reaching maturity,
Through my soft, peaceful flow.
Suddenly, my stream roars,
Fast paced, always longing for more.
Ripples come crashing down,
No other stream matching in renown.
I join others with their passages,
Meandering through the curves,
Growing in energy, sending our messages.
That together, we can be free.
Peace at last!
How many hours we’ve passed.
From the most humble beginnings,
To our journeys, unsurpassed.
Although time has taken a toll,
And these waters have begin to cease,
Now deep down I know,
That these still waters run deep.
By Olivia Nguyen
There is no salvation to be found under the scorching sun. Only blisters and uncomfortable perspiration. I often wonder what good the season of summer does for the world besides burn it to ash.
My room is devoid of air in the summer. It’s a cave with an unbreathable atmosphere and a pungent, musty odor that is impossible to escape. My fan overhead attempts to cool my flushed skin to no avail, much to my dismay. Sweat clusters at my brow, forming droplets that caress my face out of spite.
I’ve gone through at least three water bottles, but the liquid seems to just evaporate on my tongue. There is no solace to be found in summer.
Outside the four walls of my room, however, I hear laughter. It’s soft and warm and glowing. My sister’s laugh is like a bell in the wind, clear and sonorous, and so very warm. I can hear her splash about in my house’s pool, the smell of chlorine wafting through my ajar window. I imagine laying beside her on our oversized flamingo float, our glasses on and hats adorned, cool water beneath us. And I smile.
To me, summer is the pain of constant, suffocating heat and the warmth of my sister’s joy.