My Voice is a River

by Jordan Halterman

Meaning came from the river

When I neared its mothering banks

And drank from its nourishing water.

The river reclaimed the rain, granting me connection,

As I immersed my mind

Into its running, running, running stream.

The river knows, my need to communicate,

my need to speak up.

My voice is a river-

Mumbling minimally until

Passion, confidence, courage immerge.

The words flow freely

From mouth to listener-

Meaning came from the river.

A Promise from Before

by Jennifer Saldaña

It was like a dream—

No, like a melody that surrounded me.

Like a fog dense with uncertainty.

I rushed into her, into the Provo river,

felt her drops against my skin,

and it was . . . exhilarating.

And yet, the fog.

It pushed and it barred

until all I heard was a whisper, a melody.

But no matter how I strained,

no matter how I reached,

her song, her cry,

pulled away from me.

And then suddenly . . . I could hear her.

I could hear her voice, her song, her plea

as she pulled me and prodded me:

Please.

Please.

please

So, I promised.

But

the thing about promises is

that a pinky can still lie, can still fib.

It can look you in the eye

tell you it’s all fine,

with its fingers crossed at its behind,

as the world begins to dry.

And I wonder.

I wonder of a time

when I left my father’s door

and she greeted me and welcomed me

but silently implored

for care, for love, for stewardship—

Did I,

Did I

have my fingers crossed at the door?

But I open my eyes

because the birds are now gone

and I cast my rod and hear the clank of the song

of my hook against the pavement of a once 

Grand Lake

and I wonder of fishes and breeds

swimming in concrete Praying,

Saying,

Please.

Please.

please

And I beg them,

I tell them,

I can’t, I’m weak.

They will not listen, and I cannot speak.

Yet neither can they as they drown,

gulping for air in a concrete ground

And as I stare at the hook upon my palm,

another breed of fish that is hooked and drawn,

I wonder when I’ll wake from this stream.

When I feel a figure at my shoulder

more alive than a dream.

But I am scared.

I am lost.

I—

I will fight for conversation.

Revitalize our inundation.

I can be the reservoir

to rectify our earthly scar.

I will be the generation

to establish cooperation.

I will be the blessed stewards,

words engraved with earthly chords.

I will fight for conversation.

Revitalize our inundation.

I can be the reservoir

to rectify our earthly scar

I will be the generation

to establish cooperation.

I will be the blessed stewards,

words engraved with earthly chords.

I will fight for conversation.

Revitalize our inundation.

I can be the reservoir

to rectify our earthly scar

I will be the generation

to establish cooperation.

I will be the blessed stewards,

words engraved with earthly chords.

I will be—

We.

We will fight for conversation.

Revitalize our inundation.

We can be the reservoir

to rectify our earthly scar.

We will be the generation

to establish cooperation.

We will be the blessed stewards,

words engraved with earthly chords.

We.

Water Rewrites Us All

by Bailey Nelson

*Turn your mobile device sideways for best readability*

Water rewrites us all. The grounding of the ocean. The solid source that it is. The movement of the earth in the water. The feeling of it reaching deep down into us all. The fresh level-headedness that the water provides for all of us as we enter into it, whether it be a shower, a bath, or a dive into a pool. Water rewrites us all.

Water is a rebirth. Exiting with new green. Or rather, new blue. The fashion of a clear day. The giving of a current, the freshness of the cool water. The feeling of bracing against a strong current. The push, the pull, similar to real birth. In its embrace, you’ll find a natural rebirth. Water is a rebirth meant for all upon earth.

Water is cleansing. The patterning of raindrops on the top of a roof. The smell of a new day. The fog of life being washed away. The clarity of life entering into one's soul. The fading of discoloration that life gives us all as we go about our ways. Our burdens are lightened, and our spirits are now free. Water is cleansing.

Water gives us a chance. The buoyancy of a ship out at sea, the bouncing bubbles connecting to lift up a boat even though all visual logic says otherwise. A promise that if we know how to treat her, she will take care of us, and always be there for us. Water gives us a chance.

Water is an equalizer. She shows no mercy. She plays no favorites. She is cruel and cold. She knows where she is going, and she is going to get there. She takes no prisoners. Water is an equalizer.

Water is fair. When frozen, she covers everything and anything, with no discrimination. She takes the trees and the shrubs and the ground and makes them whole, makes them mold together into one full of snow. Water is fair.

Water is an equalizer. All becomes the same under her eye until the warmth of spring begins to melt her slowly into the ground. Until she gives us back what was ours, we are all hers. Water is an equalizer.

Water gives us one chance. She is kind in that way, letting us float naturally if we know how to best ride her strong, dictatorial waves. She lets us use her as we need for life, but do be warned- she will not let us abuse her. Water gives us one chance.

Water is cleansing. But no matter what she takes from us, at the end of the day, she is still her. She is still water. And she always will be. Because she is water. She is cleansing.

Water is a rebirth. She takes all that she can from us in order to keep us, us. She sends us back to our most purified state. She is more of a biological reboot than anything else, and for that, water is a rebirth.

Water rewrites us all.

When Opposing Forces Meet

by Salem Elieson

I dry her lakes, she tears my roof with storms.

She sends earthquakes, I drill her bones.

In a game of tit-for-tat she retaliates with

this for that; we fight each other—

Daughter and the Earth, her mother.

Blinded eyes and closed ears,

we speak but do not hear.

A chain reaction between heavy atoms

creates destruction worse than I can fathom.

We did not win the war fighting fire with fire,

claiming ownership of the seas.

One of us had to foster the desire to make a new

peace.

A soldier washes his burns in the salt sting sea

—but it cleans.

The disciples prayed for Christ to calm the Galilee,

water linked by the Jordan River to the Dead Sea.

Did you forget what happened next?

A fervent prayer, a desperate cry

matched the wind and waves,

but with a simple choice to stand

Christ raised his hand and brought

peace to the storms on the seas.

Did you forget our lake?

Like a grandfather’s cherished story

we carry these memories in our names

to remind us of our Savior’s glory,

the bodies different, the spirit the same.

Jordan River, Galilee,

Moab, Salt Lake, Dead Sea,

how long until we finally see that the relationship is

personal—

I am no Savior, but he trusted me with

the Earth, my mother.

We share stewardship over one another.

He invites us to be His hands, His feet.

The battle won when opposing forces meet,

the middle ground is where fighting will cease.

Selkies: Women of the Sea

by Emma Osguthorpe and Paige Osguthorpe

Selkies swim beneath the sea. 

Palace turned to prison, 

They used to be free. 

Then, man, with boats and with weapons, 

breached the solid ground. 

So selkies abandoned the surface to the new and warring man, 

choosing peace and safety below the land.

But the humans have multiplied, 

Cities springing up into the sky,

their iron-poison fingers reaching out into the rivers 

The lakes were caught as well, acid dripping into homes

Then, sickness came to selkies. Passed into every soul.

Slowly they each faded, smiles turned to pain. 

Until there was no shining sun, all gave way to night.

The selkies made the choice

faced with oil and glowing-grey-green disease. 

They rose from the sea, 

seal-skin armor, vicious coral weapons.

They descended upon the cities. 

Vengeance boiling the blood in

sea-cooled veins. 

The sun hid itself, 

heavy clouds raining pollution down

Along with the selkies’ revenge. 

Man saw them, 

Man ran. 

metal buildings, 

Streets, land 

stifled by plastic 

and rock 

until 

green strangled pink.

YOU did this.

YOU killed us.

YOU left us hopeless

YOU will suffer with us.

Many moments 

For reality to hit

A selkie, gazing at human child

Watched as he too struggled against the acid rain

Face crumpled, cries of pain

Her own skin burned, so too did his

One by one, the Selkies grasped

Just how wrong they had been in seasons past

For as much of a problem as toxic water was

The humans were cursed just as much from above. 

Their own homes were in just the same disarray

Their children as scared and unable to play

And so the fight stopped before it began

A single selkie girl and a boy not yet a man

Drew a bridge between the species, 

And began the road towards peace.

Their blistered skin healed

As they purified land and sea, 

Fear and pain and war 

Ending in eternal peace. 

Thus selkies returned from land to sea, 

And all stood beneath the sky, 

Blue rain as pure as innocence

Streamed down from on high.

Or somewhere in between

by Danelle Hubert

The Lows

“Trials are a blessing in disguise”, “you just need a little perspective”, “when you look

back at this time you’ll be grateful”, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”,”You

wouldn’t be the person you are today without the hard times”"I totally understand what

you’re going through." "Just cheer up!." "Thoughts and prayers" “You’re lucky it isn’t

worse!” “So many people have it harder” “You need to practice more gratitude”, “have

you tried having more faith?”

It's crazy that one person can die of thirst, while another drowns.

We climb the pile of problems, pleading for perspective,

Great views result in greater falls

And as we fall, walls build around us

We separate

Our minds divided

False comfort knocking

Closed doors stay closed

Attempts to keep my head above water fail

As the storms rage on

And air seems to be avoiding my lungs

How did I get here?

I was not born into the waves

I learned to walk before I swam

This flood was formed from a single drop

The Highs

I’m here

On the sun warmed carpet of the living room

A beam of light caresses my cheek

My stomach is full

My mind is clear

My heart is slow, consistent

It feels like a summer day, smells of sunscreen, tastes like grape popsicles,

I hear the cicadas organizing their symphony while I float,

suspended in the the almost too cold to be comfortable water of the pool

I feel it in the electricity that comes from riding a rollercoaster, like leaving the movie

theater late at night, like making somebody laugh so hard they cry.

The jolt courses through my bones, leaves me

Glowing in anticipation of what is to come.

Perfect contentment

The math equations suddenly have answers, the dissonant chords have been resolved.

Wrinkles are smoothed, crooked frames gently straightened, the pendulum reaches its

peak,

you fall in love with everything around you.

Or somewhere in between

Then the world shifts.

The same perspective, but a new filter

With color but lacking enthusiasm.

The lifeguards don’t worry about someone whose head is well above water.

But I’m treading water, I’m fine

I’m fine

No need to worry my father, my mother

I’m fine.

The world shifts

The same diagnosis, with a new medication

With hope but lacking vision

I arrive in a future I never thought I would see

I am grateful, I am unprepared. I take it day by day, moment by mo..

I’m fine

No need to worry my sisters, my brothers

No need to worry my friends, my lovers

I’m fine

Filled with water or air, my chest continues to heave either way

My legs keep on moving, my mind keeps on thinking, my heart keeps on loving

I’m fine

I’m fine

We’re (all) fine.

Searching, seen

by Grace Babcock

            I am a single drop, falling from the sky. I am surrounded by other droplets, all of us raining down together, yet I feel alone. Why? How am I lonely in a crowd?  How can I be proud of who I am?  If my head is bowed, if I’m afraid of being loud, if I’m overwhelmed by that crowd like a drop that is lost in the ocean,  where is my hope then? 

My voice is drowned out in the open, where I stand, my feelings unspoken, so how can I express my emotions? How can I feel heard? How can I be happy? A single drop can’t carve through stone,  if I’m in a sea of people who are small, just like me, no one can guarantee any of us happiness. 

What about Utah Lake? Can we guarantee that the happiness it brings will continue to be there? I love the wetlands that border it, in Virginia, that’s what I grew up with, going on walks along the boardwalks, which took my feet above the wetlands that weren’t just wet land, but my childhood joy. 

I remember running in the rain, reaching for droplets that fell on my face,  my arms,  my hands, trying not to slip on the slick boardwalk, reaching up above so filled with love for the water around me.

 I walk the trail next to Utah Lake, hearing the loons wail in the marsh, enjoying the harsh colors of the setting sun, painted across the sky, it makes me want to cry. I ask myself why, why do people want to destroy it? 

Dredging isn’t a solution,  these “restoration efforts” aren’t restoration. They call it conservation, but do the single drops that rain from above, that exist in the water cycles of my beloved Utah Lake, do they matter? Does the single person matter? That drop in the ocean, in the commotion, am I no one? 

I say that everybody matters, that every droplet counts,  I have to be part of that, or it shatters,  in the rips and tatters, when everything else scatters, what’s left? Do any of my efforts hold up in the light?  Why not try? If I apply myself, I can reach the sky. I want to believe that. 

I’m starting to find that yes, I believe. I believe that if I stand, if I take that chance, then I can enhance my life, then I can be happy no matter how hard it’s raining, no matter how scarred I am, I can discard that idea of being worthless; I can find my purpose.  I can find it in the things that I love.  I may be alone in a crowd, but that does not have to mean that I am lonely. 

I no longer have to think “if only,” because no matter what life has shown me, no matter how many crowds I’m stuck in, if I know my value I will be okay. My efforts are important! Your efforts are important! Each of us, individually, matter! 

Think of the splatter of droplets as they carve through stone, one by one, as they batter it down, as they shape the rock, unlock the way, remove the block that stopped me from realizing what I can do.  That’s why I’m here on a stage saying that I matter,  I’m hoping it shows that you matter too. I have found my purpose, and part of it is right here with you.