An End

By Mark Treitel ('16)

When the battle is over, and both have lost, we’ll stand

Facing each other, uniforms mostly clean, streaks of sweet,

Burning lifeblood on the face, the chest, and in the hair.

Much will be unspoken. Musketballs do not easily become words,

Nor trails of fire in the sky, nor the long, steaming barrel of the cannon,

A hot, hot thing growing cold in peace and solitude.

We will be civilized. I will, at least, and I trust you for that.

There will be an exchange of prisoners, the soldiers

Whose laughing, unkempt, vaguely beautiful faces

Had become features of our camps. I will keep silent

My heavy artillery, will not load it with those irretrievable

Shells you gave me so long ago, a fit of passion.

And we will salute each other. Not from any affection,

But as equals, veterans of the same war, who have

Breathed deep the smoky air together. Then we will depart.

There are many more engagements in the world.

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Reflecting

April 2016

By Rebecca Spin ('17)

Sometimes I find myself reflecting

Spiraling deeper and deeper into my own mind

Hidden in the folds of my own brain

Tracing the creases of thought with idle hands

Sometimes I remember that

Time is finite

And it is endless

We can never truly reach tomorrow

As it will always be today

Every second is a new one

Every minute has never occurred before

Every hour is sparkling and different

And no second of time

Will ever

Occur

Again

And then I wonder what I am having for lunch.

Sometimes I consider the fact that

Children are born every second

And we were all born only to die

Everything that is so important to us

In the grand scheme of things, means nothing

We love

And we hate

And we cry

And we matter

To no one but ourselves

And then I realize I have half of a research paper left to write.

Sometimes I find myself reflecting

And then I am pulled, forcibly from the confines of my mind

Yanked away from my own thoughts

Saved from the danger of thinking

Too

Much

And instead, I am left to wonder

How long it has been since I last did my laundry.

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Heart, Soul, and Judaism

By Eden Churi ('18)

Going to an ice cream store

A group of boys throw glass at my feet.

I ask why.

They say, "Because you're Jewish filth!"

Shock swirls around my mind,

Anger rises in my throat,

I want to fight back.

"Go back to the chambers!" They yell.

Tears prick my eyes and I want to scream.

But I don't,

I don't.

They throw pennies at me, shouting

"Crawl for it, Jew!"

I want to hurl myself at them in a violent fury.

I want to defend the religion I cling to so closely.

But a calm Jewish girl doesn't fight.

A good Jewish girl keeps to herself.

A quiet Jewish girl is respectful.

So I remain silent

And walk away.

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The Question

By Kyle Tomplinson ('18)

The question that broods in every corner

A phantom that hangs like an empty plea

It brushes against our dry, cracked skin and

Leaves us lost, leering at an endless sea.

The question sets in, a deep purple fog.

Seeps in and whispers in unknowing ears.

It shakes us awake with cold sweat on necks

And stirs over dizzying unknown fears.

The question beckons, makes us ask its name,

But it replies not and it floats away.

The clock ticks forward and the shutters sigh,

Grey light rises, the solemn mark of day.

The question that is known, not understood,

Do you see what it is I’ve sensed so well?

What is that question? – you think, or shout

The answer to that I shall never tell.