Student Participant
College of St. Rose
January 2013
"Darn, the van's late again! I really hope it comes soon and I hope nothing has happened." He goes and sits on a bench in the middle of the park with his buddy hoping and wondering abouth the first helping van. "Where is mister Jeff, this man said to be here at 8:30am and it's going on 9am now." Steve sits and listens to his own thoghts wandering back to the day before he met the students and volunteers from the College of St. Rose. He had no idea that when he walked to the van his whole day and possibly his whole world would be transformed from that day forward all because of the girls with the smiles. They were called the dream team but the most unexpected moment of all was meeting the girl from Syracuse. Steve wondered what the heck was she doing all the way out here in this town. This beautiful girl who just couldn't help but to smile and crack jokes with him. She said he looked like the guy from Living Single because of his stlye, his hair and his face. Usually this bothered Steve, but not this time, not in this circumstance. There was something different, something just seemed right because there is no such thing as a coincidence and she felt it too. "Finally there's the van" Steve said. Steve had decided if they were there again he would do what he had to do to make himself look good and not look as helpless and as unmotiveated as he felt. He would give compliments, help out with the packing away of tables and engage in as much normal everyday conversation as he could. He finally got the motivation and drive he needed all because these students decided to use their voice, their talents and their general, not want, but need to make a difference.
Showing posts with label Poverty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poverty. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Untitled
Elyse
College of St. Rose
January 2013
The woman slouches on the corner curb at a busy intersection. People rush by dressed for work, school and travel, ignoring her as they go on with their busy, important lives. Their eyes scan from the crosswalk to the entrance of the trainstation as if she wasn't there. She is a ghost to them. She is not significant to people in their own worlds. But, she could be a mother, a sister, a niece, an aunt, a grandmother and so many other things, but nobody cares enough to stop and look, to see what is truly there, or to try to understand the people with the least amount of voice. Even though she is on the corner sidewalk of a busy intersection she has a life that is just as important as yours and mine.
College of St. Rose
January 2013
The woman slouches on the corner curb at a busy intersection. People rush by dressed for work, school and travel, ignoring her as they go on with their busy, important lives. Their eyes scan from the crosswalk to the entrance of the trainstation as if she wasn't there. She is a ghost to them. She is not significant to people in their own worlds. But, she could be a mother, a sister, a niece, an aunt, a grandmother and so many other things, but nobody cares enough to stop and look, to see what is truly there, or to try to understand the people with the least amount of voice. Even though she is on the corner sidewalk of a busy intersection she has a life that is just as important as yours and mine.
The Walk By
Danielle
College of St. Rose
January 2012
I see these faces of men, women, and children who represent the unknown. I see a smile or a laugh, but feel sadness. I look upon those who wear clothes that don't provide warmth throughout the night. I hear them talk and say good morning, yet see a distinct darkness in the twinkle of their eyes. A young boy who just wants to play, but a mother who stands in his way. A boy who just wants to be a kid, but mother knows best that breakfast ends at 8:45am, a meal that may come once a day. The line, and a long line that is, of people who rely on shelters to live in a world of ignorance. People who come in each day in a daze of wonder. I see people agian and agian, yet nothing changes. Reality doesn't show this way of life, something I know little of. These peolpe in poverty, some say , need our help, but we really need their help to understand what the world is coming to...a forgotten population.
College of St. Rose
January 2012
I see these faces of men, women, and children who represent the unknown. I see a smile or a laugh, but feel sadness. I look upon those who wear clothes that don't provide warmth throughout the night. I hear them talk and say good morning, yet see a distinct darkness in the twinkle of their eyes. A young boy who just wants to play, but a mother who stands in his way. A boy who just wants to be a kid, but mother knows best that breakfast ends at 8:45am, a meal that may come once a day. The line, and a long line that is, of people who rely on shelters to live in a world of ignorance. People who come in each day in a daze of wonder. I see people agian and agian, yet nothing changes. Reality doesn't show this way of life, something I know little of. These peolpe in poverty, some say , need our help, but we really need their help to understand what the world is coming to...a forgotten population.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Untitled
Student Participant
UCM Columbus
May 2012
The suffering of the poor and I was moved to compassion. From the depths of my heart I cried out to my lord “Jesus Christ for the sake of your sorrows on the cross and for the sake of these children have mercy.” Jesus appeared his eyes full of tears and love and replied “see what great compassion I have for them! Know that it is they who hold up the world. Rejoice for the time is coming when I will comfort them in heaven forever.”
UCM Columbus
May 2012
The suffering of the poor and I was moved to compassion. From the depths of my heart I cried out to my lord “Jesus Christ for the sake of your sorrows on the cross and for the sake of these children have mercy.” Jesus appeared his eyes full of tears and love and replied “see what great compassion I have for them! Know that it is they who hold up the world. Rejoice for the time is coming when I will comfort them in heaven forever.”
Friday, February 10, 2012
Why?
Wofford College
January 2012
Why did I get chosen to sleep in a bed?
I saw an elderly man lying on stairs, eyes lifeless.
We’re both human, but why do I wear Nikes, he
wears boots?
Who makes these decisions? Why can’t I bring
myself to stop and ask his name?
He’s a man, not an animal.
Am I doing what is right? I say that every night.
Why does the women hold her child close at night,
worried about her future?
Why must people just like me and you wonder where
they will eat, when they will sleep, where they will
find hope?
Why must I be trapped, unable to ask anyone these questions?
We have the power to make solutions but why is it so difficult to
create them? Why? I have no answer but all I can share is my choice: perseverance.
January 2012
Why did I get chosen to sleep in a bed?
I saw an elderly man lying on stairs, eyes lifeless.
We’re both human, but why do I wear Nikes, he
wears boots?
Who makes these decisions? Why can’t I bring
myself to stop and ask his name?
He’s a man, not an animal.
Am I doing what is right? I say that every night.
Why does the women hold her child close at night,
worried about her future?
Why must people just like me and you wonder where
they will eat, when they will sleep, where they will
find hope?
Why must I be trapped, unable to ask anyone these questions?
We have the power to make solutions but why is it so difficult to
create them? Why? I have no answer but all I can share is my choice: perseverance.
Where the Weak Stand Strong
Drew Choyce
Wofford College
January 2012
This pain, a mask I wear,
suppresses these feelings
of happiness inside.
Watching us walk to nowhere
besides an emptiness grows
where my childhood died.
As the sun rises, as I
remain true, chains of purpose
become noticed.
Upon my body the shadows flee,
on this side of the street,
the weak stand strong.
Wofford College
January 2012
This pain, a mask I wear,
suppresses these feelings
of happiness inside.
Watching us walk to nowhere
besides an emptiness grows
where my childhood died.
As the sun rises, as I
remain true, chains of purpose
become noticed.
Upon my body the shadows flee,
on this side of the street,
the weak stand strong.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Untitled
Rebecca Farnum
Third Year Undergraduate, Michigan State University
Participant in GBCS Seminar Spring Break 2011
So many people climb up my stairs
Ride up my elevators
To see DC as I do
To see the city in its splendor
From my heights they look to the White House, the Capitol, the Potomac
They revel in the stone glory of their national home
But they don't see all that I see
From my heights I see the city
The people
The life that is DC
I see the White House, the Capitol Building, the other monuments
But they are but a blip on the radar
Most of my sight, most of my city
Is composed of people
Living, working
Loving, dying
People whose only crime is to live in a city without representation
People who come to the capitol of freedom and are rejected
People who walk past buildings with the words "Equality" and "Justice" every day
But there is no justice
The is no equality
There is only hope
Hope that one day the land of the free will live in freedom
For all
For mothers and children and brothers and uncles
For white and black and rich and poor
For the immigrants who came here illegally and the immigrants who came before there was a law to break
For the working poor and the unworking rich
I see people
Sharing food, offering shelter
Telling stories, laughing together
I see people.
As the many people of this nation look through my high windows,
I see them. I hear them.
And I see and hear the people they have failed to see and hear.
I watch over this city, this people
And I wish them well. I wish them hope.
I wish them freedom.
Third Year Undergraduate, Michigan State University
Participant in GBCS Seminar Spring Break 2011
So many people climb up my stairs
Ride up my elevators
To see DC as I do
To see the city in its splendor
From my heights they look to the White House, the Capitol, the Potomac
They revel in the stone glory of their national home
But they don't see all that I see
From my heights I see the city
The people
The life that is DC
I see the White House, the Capitol Building, the other monuments
But they are but a blip on the radar
Most of my sight, most of my city
Is composed of people
Living, working
Loving, dying
People whose only crime is to live in a city without representation
People who come to the capitol of freedom and are rejected
People who walk past buildings with the words "Equality" and "Justice" every day
But there is no justice
The is no equality
There is only hope
Hope that one day the land of the free will live in freedom
For all
For mothers and children and brothers and uncles
For white and black and rich and poor
For the immigrants who came here illegally and the immigrants who came before there was a law to break
For the working poor and the unworking rich
I see people
Sharing food, offering shelter
Telling stories, laughing together
I see people.
As the many people of this nation look through my high windows,
I see them. I hear them.
And I see and hear the people they have failed to see and hear.
I watch over this city, this people
And I wish them well. I wish them hope.
I wish them freedom.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
My Voice
Hey, you! Hear me! We’re not that different.
I like music, a hug is a comfort, I can love.
Yet you walk on by me, abuse me, scoff at me.
You don’t know my story.
I am a mother, a teacher, a human.
Just like you.
Hey, you! Look at me. Do you see a reflection of yourself?
I am flesh and blood, with meaningful eyes and a smile.
Yet you treat me like dirt and call me a dog.
You don’t know my story.
I was born to a loving mother and I am living a life.
Just like you.
Hey, you! Touch me! Do you feel the warmth?
I like the cool of running water and the freshness of a breeze.
Yet you shrug me off and pull away.
You don’t know my story.
I want to touch and be touched.
Just like you.
What if you were me? What then? Think about it.
I like music, a hug is a comfort, I can love.
Yet you walk on by me, abuse me, scoff at me.
You don’t know my story.
I am a mother, a teacher, a human.
Just like you.
Hey, you! Look at me. Do you see a reflection of yourself?
I am flesh and blood, with meaningful eyes and a smile.
Yet you treat me like dirt and call me a dog.
You don’t know my story.
I was born to a loving mother and I am living a life.
Just like you.
Hey, you! Touch me! Do you feel the warmth?
I like the cool of running water and the freshness of a breeze.
Yet you shrug me off and pull away.
You don’t know my story.
I want to touch and be touched.
Just like you.
What if you were me? What then? Think about it.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Untitled
Dan Metzger
West Ohio Interns
June 2010
I'm a white, middle-class, American male.
I have a high school diploma, a bachelor's degree, and a master's degree. People keep ask if I'll get my PhD, which is definitely an option, if I ever want it to be.
I have tons of college debt. Almost 6 figures between my wife and I. It sucks, but we'll pay it off. I have two cars.
I live in a wealthy suburb.
My kids will get a good education.
I've never been pulled over.
I've never been assaulted.
I've never even seen marijuana.
I have power and influence.
It's people like me who are told we have to be the ones to change things.
I can write letters. I can give money.
I can...do stuff.
That's what I'm told. That's not how I feel.
For the first time, I feel like I'm in a
powerless position.
Those below me are angry with me.
Those above me call me a radical activist. When I speak out that's not a...
So I try to please both sides. I work at a soup kitchen and tutor a poor kid.
I laugh with my rich friends as we blow more money on $5 machiattos and biscotti.
And I do this day in and day out.
And I hate it.
Can someone please close the gap in the standard of living so I don't have to feel bad anymore in the middle.
West Ohio Interns
June 2010
I'm a white, middle-class, American male.
I have a high school diploma, a bachelor's degree, and a master's degree. People keep ask if I'll get my PhD, which is definitely an option, if I ever want it to be.
I have tons of college debt. Almost 6 figures between my wife and I. It sucks, but we'll pay it off. I have two cars.
I live in a wealthy suburb.
My kids will get a good education.
I've never been pulled over.
I've never been assaulted.
I've never even seen marijuana.
I have power and influence.
It's people like me who are told we have to be the ones to change things.
I can write letters. I can give money.
I can...do stuff.
That's what I'm told. That's not how I feel.
For the first time, I feel like I'm in a
powerless position.
Those below me are angry with me.
Those above me call me a radical activist. When I speak out that's not a...
So I try to please both sides. I work at a soup kitchen and tutor a poor kid.
I laugh with my rich friends as we blow more money on $5 machiattos and biscotti.
And I do this day in and day out.
And I hate it.
Can someone please close the gap in the standard of living so I don't have to feel bad anymore in the middle.
Untitled
Intern
West Ohio Conference Interns
June 2010
Everyday I look around, I am surrounded by others, but know I am unlike them. My life is not mine. It belongs to those around me. It is my 3 & 5 year old brothers, my one year old sister. It is my mom's who cannote survive without my help. It belongs to my classmatese who care more about their enjoyment than my education. My life belongs to the crap shoot of teachers my school can give me. My life is survival, responsibility, love. It is to care and nurture without receiving it back. It is not being able to dream because reality slaps me back awake. It is wondering that when my body grows up, will my soul still be alive to see it?
West Ohio Conference Interns
June 2010
Everyday I look around, I am surrounded by others, but know I am unlike them. My life is not mine. It belongs to those around me. It is my 3 & 5 year old brothers, my one year old sister. It is my mom's who cannote survive without my help. It belongs to my classmatese who care more about their enjoyment than my education. My life belongs to the crap shoot of teachers my school can give me. My life is survival, responsibility, love. It is to care and nurture without receiving it back. It is not being able to dream because reality slaps me back awake. It is wondering that when my body grows up, will my soul still be alive to see it?
Monday, June 7, 2010
What is This?
Bernard Johnson
McMurray University; March 14
What is this, that thing in the sky
That won’t let the sun shine?
What is this, that man over there
That’s said we can only go so far?
What is this, it keeps me trippin,
I can’t stop slippin it can
Get Freeeeeee.
All I want to do is be.
Be what, Be who, Be where.
I wanna Be what I want
I wanna Be who I am
I wanna Be wherever I am who I am
No masks, No hidin, No pretendin, No fakin.
What is this your trying to make me?
I’m no animal or to be caged in ur box of stereotypes
What is this?
A Chip?
In my arm?
No thank you.
What’s that u say? W/O this chip I cannot be? OH I’m sorry sir that thing still is not for me. For you see I will be me No matter who U R U C.
By the way who R U?
McMurray University; March 14
What is this, that thing in the sky
That won’t let the sun shine?
What is this, that man over there
That’s said we can only go so far?
What is this, it keeps me trippin,
I can’t stop slippin it can
Get Freeeeeee.
All I want to do is be.
Be what, Be who, Be where.
I wanna Be what I want
I wanna Be who I am
I wanna Be wherever I am who I am
No masks, No hidin, No pretendin, No fakin.
What is this your trying to make me?
I’m no animal or to be caged in ur box of stereotypes
What is this?
A Chip?
In my arm?
No thank you.
What’s that u say? W/O this chip I cannot be? OH I’m sorry sir that thing still is not for me. For you see I will be me No matter who U R U C.
By the way who R U?
No one is born...
Katelyn H.
Iowa AC Youth; 2006
No one is born to be “on the street”;
No one is born to live without heat.
All this means homeless and that isn’t good,
So why don’t we do the things we should.
People from elsewhere come to this land,
We could start by lending them a hand.
Don’t these people deserve changes like us,
If you agree with it, then why’s there a fuss?
If you don’t have an opinion, that means you don’t care,
And if that is true, then why do you stare?
Why don’t you help the peole with a need,
You don’t have to do much, just a kind deed.
I don’t know what to say to make things better,
Since some ideas are dry, while others are wetter.
Iowa AC Youth; 2006
No one is born to be “on the street”;
No one is born to live without heat.
All this means homeless and that isn’t good,
So why don’t we do the things we should.
People from elsewhere come to this land,
We could start by lending them a hand.
Don’t these people deserve changes like us,
If you agree with it, then why’s there a fuss?
If you don’t have an opinion, that means you don’t care,
And if that is true, then why do you stare?
Why don’t you help the peole with a need,
You don’t have to do much, just a kind deed.
I don’t know what to say to make things better,
Since some ideas are dry, while others are wetter.
Bucket
Karlie Allen
Huston-Tillotson; Spring 2010
When I sleep, I dream about another life. A better life, I dream about getting out of here and making a name for myself. KYLE! GET UP THE ROOF IS LEAKING!
I awake to my mother standing over me yelling for me to get the bucket. Why couldn’t she just get it? (I’ve got to get out of here, but how?)
I look out my window and see my friends Alex and James on the corner. (Man, Look at those kicks they got on, and whoo-whoo that Car! I could go anywhere with a car like that!)
That’s why I start work today.
I rush out my house, past my mother’s complaining to go chill with my boys. We give eachother dap, exchanging drugs like we had rehearsed. It feels like gold in my hand. I post up on the block and wait.
A car rolls by, I see the guys eyes in his rearview mirror looking back at me. He stops and backs up to me. “You got that sugar?” he says.
“Whose asking?”
(I let out a sigh, thinking to myself what Alex and James told me how to act.)
Those were my boys, they told me that a crew sticks it out together and never leaves a soldier behind.
The man snaps his fingers, bringing me back.
“I said, I have a sweet tooth and it’s aching for some sugar,” he pleads.
I pass him the 5 gram bag as he gets ready to hand me my money.
He grabs my wrist and says, “You’re under arrest!” Alex and James flee, I call their names but they don’t even look back.
I’m left alone.
Now I’m at the station with a public defender that keeps calling me Steve. Steve! Who is Steve!?!
The officer from the car says I’m facing 5 years minimum! Damn, I should of gotten that bucket.
Huston-Tillotson; Spring 2010
When I sleep, I dream about another life. A better life, I dream about getting out of here and making a name for myself. KYLE! GET UP THE ROOF IS LEAKING!
I awake to my mother standing over me yelling for me to get the bucket. Why couldn’t she just get it? (I’ve got to get out of here, but how?)
I look out my window and see my friends Alex and James on the corner. (Man, Look at those kicks they got on, and whoo-whoo that Car! I could go anywhere with a car like that!)
That’s why I start work today.
I rush out my house, past my mother’s complaining to go chill with my boys. We give eachother dap, exchanging drugs like we had rehearsed. It feels like gold in my hand. I post up on the block and wait.
A car rolls by, I see the guys eyes in his rearview mirror looking back at me. He stops and backs up to me. “You got that sugar?” he says.
“Whose asking?”
(I let out a sigh, thinking to myself what Alex and James told me how to act.)
Those were my boys, they told me that a crew sticks it out together and never leaves a soldier behind.
The man snaps his fingers, bringing me back.
“I said, I have a sweet tooth and it’s aching for some sugar,” he pleads.
I pass him the 5 gram bag as he gets ready to hand me my money.
He grabs my wrist and says, “You’re under arrest!” Alex and James flee, I call their names but they don’t even look back.
I’m left alone.
Now I’m at the station with a public defender that keeps calling me Steve. Steve! Who is Steve!?!
The officer from the car says I’m facing 5 years minimum! Damn, I should of gotten that bucket.
Am I Not Entitled?
Jasmine Comier
Huston-Tillotson; Spring 2010
Nothing’s been handed to me but generational curses. At least that’s what I thought it was. I opened my eyes. The realization hit me. This right here has been placed in my community. Now they want to get rid of me ARE they entitled? They had the luxury to move about the Cabin Long before I did. Justice is another word that has lost its backing. That stab wound will no longer bleed. For I can see change U.N.I.T.Y to open my eyes to open a book read the pages. See that history repeats Getting Entitled. Get out of your comfort zone. Speak up. Get heard. Vote. The place where the Rich and the Poor are equal. Are you entitled?
Huston-Tillotson; Spring 2010
Nothing’s been handed to me but generational curses. At least that’s what I thought it was. I opened my eyes. The realization hit me. This right here has been placed in my community. Now they want to get rid of me ARE they entitled? They had the luxury to move about the Cabin Long before I did. Justice is another word that has lost its backing. That stab wound will no longer bleed. For I can see change U.N.I.T.Y to open my eyes to open a book read the pages. See that history repeats Getting Entitled. Get out of your comfort zone. Speak up. Get heard. Vote. The place where the Rich and the Poor are equal. Are you entitled?
Where is the Justice?
Christopher Woodard
Huston-Tillotson; Spring 2010
Why is the system so unjust towards people mainly those of color!? I see the very same thing here in Washington in Austin. All the fancy nice buildings on one side of the city with the white people walking to and fro to their jobs. Then I take a trip across town and see very few people, I see the minority. I see ugly buildings and people wearing tacky clothes sitting on the sidewalks where is the justice!? We are suppose to be the number 1 country in the world but from the inside looking out, we lack so much. We as people lack confidence and the ability to make change for our own selves we as a people complain about the system but do nothing to change it but make excuses and blame those in power for everything. Our political system is so stagnant, dirty, low, disgusting, and selfish that they literally prey on the weak! Taking over communities with low income like their nothing, putting people’s lives in danger like its only one option when there’s hundreds other options! The political system raises and imposes taxes on the people and rather use it on national defense than to help those who need it! WHERE IS THE JUSTICE!?
Huston-Tillotson; Spring 2010
Why is the system so unjust towards people mainly those of color!? I see the very same thing here in Washington in Austin. All the fancy nice buildings on one side of the city with the white people walking to and fro to their jobs. Then I take a trip across town and see very few people, I see the minority. I see ugly buildings and people wearing tacky clothes sitting on the sidewalks where is the justice!? We are suppose to be the number 1 country in the world but from the inside looking out, we lack so much. We as people lack confidence and the ability to make change for our own selves we as a people complain about the system but do nothing to change it but make excuses and blame those in power for everything. Our political system is so stagnant, dirty, low, disgusting, and selfish that they literally prey on the weak! Taking over communities with low income like their nothing, putting people’s lives in danger like its only one option when there’s hundreds other options! The political system raises and imposes taxes on the people and rather use it on national defense than to help those who need it! WHERE IS THE JUSTICE!?
Our Obligation
Veronica Numesubb
Huston-Tillotson; Spring 2010
Cultivating our voice
Because we have a choice
Thinking like there is no one but you to make the plan
Having someone in your mind and make it plain.
Voice! Voice! Voice!
It’s essential because it is life
Having a life without a voice is no life
Thinking of a life without a voice takes a plan
A plan to save life and help others speak their mind
Helping others is like helping yourself
Make a choice to cultivate that plan.
Take a chance
Like it’s a glance
Into a life you never thought existed
Just like when someone is busted
Thinking like there is no one but you to make the plan
Think of the plan, then you’ll have a voice
Voice! Voice! Voice!
It’s essential, because it’s life
This is more than a cultivation
Because it’s our obligation
Huston-Tillotson; Spring 2010
Cultivating our voice
Because we have a choice
Thinking like there is no one but you to make the plan
Having someone in your mind and make it plain.
Voice! Voice! Voice!
It’s essential because it is life
Having a life without a voice is no life
Thinking of a life without a voice takes a plan
A plan to save life and help others speak their mind
Helping others is like helping yourself
Make a choice to cultivate that plan.
Take a chance
Like it’s a glance
Into a life you never thought existed
Just like when someone is busted
Thinking like there is no one but you to make the plan
Think of the plan, then you’ll have a voice
Voice! Voice! Voice!
It’s essential, because it’s life
This is more than a cultivation
Because it’s our obligation
Time for Change
Fredba Anya
Huston-Tillotson; 2010
People are being displaced from their homes every now and then just because they are poor and have no voice.
The rich gets richer while the poor gets poorer. If it is time we raise up our voice and speak for the poor and helpless.
Let’s raise up and speak up, it’s time to let our voice be heard. Wake up people let’s speak up becaue it is time for change.
Huston-Tillotson; 2010
People are being displaced from their homes every now and then just because they are poor and have no voice.
The rich gets richer while the poor gets poorer. If it is time we raise up our voice and speak for the poor and helpless.
Let’s raise up and speak up, it’s time to let our voice be heard. Wake up people let’s speak up becaue it is time for change.
A Poem
“Me (In the African American Context)”
By a student from Huston-Tillotson; Spring 2010
I see me, but you also see me
I see me as strong and capable
But you see me as weak and feeble
I see me as having a rich heritage
But you see me as underprivileged
I see me as a survivor
But your see me as a destructor
I see me as smart
But you see me as stats
We both see me but is that truly me?
Is there more about me that I need to see
Is there more about me that you need to see
Who am I? and How do I find the true me?
By a student from Huston-Tillotson; Spring 2010
I see me, but you also see me
I see me as strong and capable
But you see me as weak and feeble
I see me as having a rich heritage
But you see me as underprivileged
I see me as a survivor
But your see me as a destructor
I see me as smart
But you see me as stats
We both see me but is that truly me?
Is there more about me that I need to see
Is there more about me that you need to see
Who am I? and How do I find the true me?
Monday, January 11, 2010
The American Dream
by Hannah Havelka
Pfeiffer College
October 2009
exhausted.
my body aching,
my soul depleted.
exhausted.
daddy told me long ago
that if i work hard enough,
if i strive long enough,
if i dream big enough,
that i could do anything.
so i went to college.
counselor told me to build up a resume,
so i double majored,
i got all a's.
i filled my schedule with
curriculars, co-curriculars, extra-curriculars
until there wasn't a minute left.
over 10,000 moments
of classes
and clubs
and meetings
and service
and projects
and lessons
and work
and...
and...
and...exhausted.
body aching,
soul depleted.
exhausted.
all so i could get a job.
and get a job, i did.
three, in fact.
one to pay for a roof over my head.
one to pay for food on my table.
and one to pay for the transportation to get to the other two.
who has time to dream
when you're working 95 hours a week?
daddy told me long ago
that if i work hard enough,
strive long enough,
believe firmly enough,
that i could do anything.
exhausted.
body aching,
soul depleted.
exhausted.
is this the american dream?
Pfeiffer College
October 2009
exhausted.
my body aching,
my soul depleted.
exhausted.
daddy told me long ago
that if i work hard enough,
if i strive long enough,
if i dream big enough,
that i could do anything.
so i went to college.
counselor told me to build up a resume,
so i double majored,
i got all a's.
i filled my schedule with
curriculars, co-curriculars, extra-curriculars
until there wasn't a minute left.
over 10,000 moments
of classes
and clubs
and meetings
and service
and projects
and lessons
and work
and...
and...
and...exhausted.
body aching,
soul depleted.
exhausted.
all so i could get a job.
and get a job, i did.
three, in fact.
one to pay for a roof over my head.
one to pay for food on my table.
and one to pay for the transportation to get to the other two.
who has time to dream
when you're working 95 hours a week?
daddy told me long ago
that if i work hard enough,
strive long enough,
believe firmly enough,
that i could do anything.
exhausted.
body aching,
soul depleted.
exhausted.
is this the american dream?
Restless Hunger
by BryAnna
Dakotas Conference
July 2009
My stomach is growling.
It hurts so badly.
Mom says we won’t be able to eat today.
Dad says the pain won’t last forever.
My brothers and sisters cry all night.
They are too young to feel this pain.
I want to help them, but how?
School is difficult, especially with an empty stomach.
My mind can’t learn; it’s focused on other things.
Tonight maybe I can find something in the trash.
Then I can sleep.
Dakotas Conference
July 2009
My stomach is growling.
It hurts so badly.
Mom says we won’t be able to eat today.
Dad says the pain won’t last forever.
My brothers and sisters cry all night.
They are too young to feel this pain.
I want to help them, but how?
School is difficult, especially with an empty stomach.
My mind can’t learn; it’s focused on other things.
Tonight maybe I can find something in the trash.
Then I can sleep.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)