“Colors” Rebecca Baitel
What is beauty?
Is it a flickering flame of scarlet igniting in a spark,
Or a ruby brightly shining with a crimson glow?
The sweet flavor of tangerines freshly squeezed for Sunday brunch,
Or the orange of your popsicle melting under the glorious warmth of summer’s heat?
Is it the sunflowers swaying softly in the wind that whistles through the meadows,
Or the sun creeping in through your window and signaling the start of a new day, a fresh beginning.
How about the wintergreen, fresh landscape of rolling hills, and the emeralds unknowingly sparkling beneath your feet?
A sea cascading with cobalt, a cove of undiscovered aqua,
Or the morning blue jay serenading you with its chirping song?
Grapes dangling delicately from a vine, rooted in Nature’s beauty, or the violet mountains towering in the distance.
The colors of our world are truly beautiful,
And so were you.

To The Rebels
Brooke Stanicki

Since I was young they told me,
The world wants you to fit inside a box
But I do not like boxes so I broke off all the locks and I
Walked, not like a runway model,
But like a Muslim woman telling bigots to f-off
Like a gay couple kissing
In clear view of the girls in the corner of the restaurant
Laughing and whispering.
I am strong,
Not like a bodybuilder,
But like a rape victim testifying on the stand
Because he knows he was abused even if he is a man,
Like the cancer patients walking into treatment every day
Seeing their hair fall off,
And the sky turn to grey,
Yet still running outside, attached to their IV,
To laugh at the Devil’s pain
And dance in the pouring rain.
These are triumphant examples of humanity.
Because the greatest are not known for conforming to the darkness They are the dreamers, the warriors, the artists,
Who strike the match,
In open rebellion against whoever told them
That they should get back in line.
They do not get back in line
I do not get back in line.
I rebel.