The Disguising Sun

There is a familiarity in this red sun
The smoothness of its edges
How fragile its reflection
Mimicking our single summer

I freeze in its presence
Ignorant to the clock’s impatience
Startled by the crash of memories
Sudden and exposed

My reflection sways
Tugging at my arm
Calling me from within

No warning or notice
I reach for it

Transporting back
To a summer evening
I catch the pitch
Of my laughters
As the corner of your lips
Curled up

Underneath the August breeze
Summer heights in playful light

Unaware then
How quick we’d turn gray
Like the red skies
In that August sunset

I blink
And suddenly
I am back in the room

In the presence
Of the red sun
Back in the museum
Amidst passing strangers

Once more
I look at the sun
And realize

It isn’t our red sun

It is just
A polyester circle
Disguising
As a memory of mine

Rebecca Cuai enjoys writing creatively in the fictionalized world while drawing inspiration from her environment and experiences. 

Different 2.0

I’m glad that I am different

There’s no one else quite like me

I still don’t love who I am

But I am creating who I’d Love to be.

I find some things easy

And others too hard

But I learn as I go

And I learn to work hard.

I wish a better person I could be

But I think I’ll stay as me.

Mercy Winslow is an autistic person who enjoys reptiles, plants, and bug critters. Mercy has noticed differences between herself and her peers when it comes to mental health and interests. Mercy almost always has a project in progress and is often willing to share it with others. 

Dear Timothy:

Dear Timothy,

Your eyes shone—

Like precious, rare, green elbaite tourmaline.

Mineral Jewels.

Your smile beamed,

Radiantly--

Like gleaming pearls,

Of a glassy, endless sea.

Your boisterous laughter—

So uproariously infectious. 

Your ardent faith, and brilliant confidence,

Endlessly inspiring to me.

Even so, 

The seasons change; 

In each of our lives,

And on this Earth--

Just the same.

Maybe all of these—

Characteristics…

Were just part of your facade.

Looking back, 

Trying to find out why--

Is somehow like staring in a mirror. 

I was as dark as you were inside—

Once…

But somehow, I’m still right here.

What hurts me most,

Is dwelling on the fact—

You took your own life so violently…

And you died completely, helplessly alone. 

I wish instead,

You would have sought help--

Or simply dialed the phone….

I don’t understand the choices you made, 

And I may never know why—

But racking my brain with the consuming consternation of your final hours—

It simply makes me cry. 

I wish I was a better friend. 

The what ifs, running rampant through my mind. 

But spinning, twirling--

Through the unending options…

Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve--

It’s a self-destructive waste,

Of time. 

Who I thought you were—

Versus who you look like now, 

Just don’t add up to me. 

I wish someone could’ve thrown out the lifeline. 

It seems, you were lost at sea. 

Mental illness is a terrifying land, 

I know this place too well. 

But now,

You await the judgement seat, 

Staring yearningly--

At Heaven’s doorbell. 

I pray you are granted merciful admission,

Dear Tim,

Despite the circumstances,

Encircling the hasty manner,

In which—You left.

I’m so sorry—

You saw no better option,

But cutting your years short--

That’s still theft. 

People loved you, near and far. 

I’m sure you will be deeply missed. 

I still can’t believe you took your life,

Gone from this world… 

I feel as though,

I’m wandering…

Aimlessly,

Hopelessly--

Through a dense fog, 

Your harsh,

Cold

Pink mist.

Abigail Rose Bingaman Racop is a second year student at Ivy Tech. Gail is studying elementary education, and is looking forward to teaching first graders. Outside of school, she loves to write, draw, sing, and color. Ms. Racop also enjoys working at Fiberglass Freaks, the 1966 Batmobile Factory in Logansport, Indiana. 

Life Is Rock N Roll

My dad would tell me that

Rock is the purpose that let us

Rage out our emotions. “Let it out,”

“Let them all hear,” Because

That is what life is going to bring

Out of you. I would scream to

Bon Jovi’s, “Living on a Prayer.”

Aerosmith’s, “Walk this Way,”

AC/DC’s, “Highway to Hell,”

And Journey’s, “Don’t stop Believing.”

They would tell me to scream

Into the empty void of nothingness

In my room. At least there

I’m screaming at the world.

Amber Perez is an Ivy Tech student. She is majoring in Early Childhood Education. She is hoping to be a Teachers' aide in an elementary school.