Gate 2013

Gate2013

Contents Reach to Fly - Tory Lynch 1 She Laces Up Her Boots - Lauren Johnson 2 Dancer’s Shoes - Sibilla Grenon An Eternity of Sun - Anonymous 4 Still Life - Rachel Tate I think of you so little now. - Grace Owen 6 Small Violin - Supna Prasad Dreamer - Devan Smith-Brown 8 I see You - Caroline Wildman Writer’s Block - Keertana Srinivasan 10 Light Series 1 - Supna Prasad Pigman - Rebeca Elizondo 12 Pearls - Katy Tidd Kites on her Socks - Devan Smith-Brown 14 Hiking - Sibilla Grenon Spacebear - Tory Lynch Lead - Victoria Turnbill 16 Umbrellas & Puddles - Anonymous Equilibrium - Lauren Simione 18 Light Series 2 - Supna Prasad Breakable - Charlotte McIntosh 20 Homeless - Suji Kim Secret Lover Here - Marissa Posner 22 Tribute - Helen Yan To Yearn for the Uncontrollable - Anna Merod 24 Lines - Rachel Tate Breaking out of the Shell - Keertana Srinivasan 26 Eggshells - Suji Kim Wylops - Briaun Isreal 28 Legs - Anonymous Back Stage - Sibilla Grenon Mosaic - Eunice Kim 32 Acknowledgements 33

1

Tory Lynch ’14

Lauren Johnson ’14

She laceS up her work bootS,hoping one day

they’ll become ballet slippers.Her eyes glaze over

with thoughts of a future, almost in her grasp.

Her reach extends as she grows.Moving forward;

“this is what it’s about,” she saysas she puts on her shoes

and gets ready for the world.

2

Sibilla Grenon ’14

An Eternity of Sun

I exist in a world filled with vexation,

Pent-up emotion, and a lack of imagination.

Selfishly, full of desperation and solitude,

I empty of joy: oh, desolate mood.

No more bright colors, no warm days;

No uniqueness or different ways.

No change or choice (always the same);

Just, stuck in the past, in an era of shame.

But you have now come and will never fade away.The key to my door, the sun to my nocturnal days.

My world is now bright with your everlasting blaze.As my sun, you will always stay.

Anonymous

Rachel Tate ’14

Supna Prasad ’14

6

I THINK OF YOU SO LITTLE NOW, but when I do think of you, it’s big – big, gal-axies, empires – empires. Empires like the one by which you were so captivated. And why was “obsessed with” the phrase that came to my mind? Did I truly judge you so harshly? I know that you judged me. I don’t blame you.

Empire, the Roman Empire, and Marcus Aurelius. I wonder, do you still fashion yourself after him? But he is only cast in stone. I think that you are living and breathing and warm, but of course I can’t be sure. To never have touched, but to have been touched. I bought a book because of you, and I was determined to like it. I got to page ten , and I haven’t looked at it since. I thought that you had better taste than me; I don’t think that now. I hope I don’t think that now.

You still see me and see what I think, at least I hope that you do. (I hope you think I’m pretty.) What do you think about what I think? Am I still so young to you? As if you were really any older than me. We were separated by a lot but so much of that was the way that I looked up to you. I increased our distance so much just by changing the angle of my head, and I don’t know if I’m mad at you because you didn’t do anything about it.

Do you remember small things that I do? I think that I don’t remember a lot of the things that you might. I don’t remember if I ever told you how handsome you were, you are, to me at least. I remember a conversation we had (Skype chat, of course, not even video) about a song, and how I didn’t know what to think of it. That song has more than fifty plays according to my computer, and I’m mad about that too, but I still listen to it. I listened to it today. I think of you with a little shrug because I don’t love you anymore. I’m glad, because I’m so sure that you never did.

There. You win. You made me write about you, after a year. A late night manifesto and the Pax Romana – of course it wouldn’t work out.

Grace Owen ’15

7

Dreamer

Caroline Wildman ’16

8

I am a daydreamer.And maybe that is because

I need to compensate for my dreams in the night,which are not dreams.

But nightmares. Devan Smith-Brown ’13

9

Keertana Srinivasan ’14

10

Supna Prasad ’14

I had just returned from a wonderful visit at the zoo when the phone rang.“Hello,” I said with my usual tone of voice.“Hello. Is this Mr. Angelo Pignati?” I heard from the other end.“It sure is.” Phone calls always made me happy.“This is Miss Truman of the Howard Avenue Charities. Perhaps you’ve heard of us and our work?,” came the voice of the young woman. I hadn’t heard of any charity. “My wife isn’t home just now.”“I didn’t call to speak to your wife, Mr. Pignati.” That was very un-usual, why would they want to speak to me? “I distinctly called to speak to you and summon you to our cause. You see, my organiza-tion is interested in receiving small donations from people like you – good-hearted people, Mr. Pignati- we depend on lovely people just like you and your wife--”This sounded suspicious, I guessed it was just some kid paying a good old prank on me. How fun! “What did you say the name of the charity was?”Her response was laughter, and might I say that I almost couldn’t contain myself as well. “Is something funny?”“No… there’s nothing funny, Mr. Pignati… it’s just that one of the girls… here at the office has just told me a joke, and it was very fun-ny, but back to serious business, Mr. Pignati. You asked the name of our charity-- the name of our charity is--” there was some shouting in the background.“The name of it is--”“The name of our charity is the L & J Fund, Mr. Pignati, and we’d like to know if you’d care to contribute to it? It would really be a very nice gesture, Mr. Pignati.” I hadn’t had a good laugh in years… “What was the joke the girl told you? I know a lot of jokes, but my wife’s the only one who laughs at them. Ha, ha.” “Is that so?” She sounded incredulous.“She really did laugh at them. She liked a good joke, she did, and I miss her. She’s taken a little trip.” “Oh, did she?” I was starting to like this young woman.“Yep. She’s out in California with my sister.”“Isn’t that marvelous!”

12

Rebeca Elizondo ’13THE PIGMAN

“Her favorite was the one about the best get-well cards to get. Did you ever hear that one--what’d you say your name was?”“Miss Truman.”“Well, Miss Truman, did you ever hear that one, the one about the best get-well cards you can get?” Ah, Conchetta loved this joke.“No, Mr. Pignati--” I didn’t hear her; I was too concentrated in my thoughts.“It was my wife’s favorite joke, that one was. She’d make me tell it a lot of times…” I got lost in my own thoughts of Conchetta. I really missed her. I wished she could be with me again, her laugh was so angelic. I just wanted to make her laugh all the time. “Yes, Miss Truman, the best get-well cards to get are four aces! Ha, ha, ha! Isn’t that funny?” I let out this wild laugh; this joke always cracked me up.“Do you get it, Miss Truman? Four aces… the best get-well cards you can get--”She cut me off, “Yes, Mr. Pignati--”I still tried to make her understand “You know, in poker?” “Yes, Mr. Pignati.” I told her another one of my jokes. There was this long, long pause where I waited for her laughter, but it never came. So I waited. “Miss Truman, are you still there?,” I asked once I thought it was okay to ask.“Yes, Mr. Pignati,” she muttered. “Well, did you get the joke? I didn’t hear you laugh.”“No. I’m sorry I didn’t get the joke.” I was expecting that.“I didn’t think you did. I said, ‘In my state a hunting license entitles you to one deer and no more. Just like a marriage license.’ Ha, ha, ha!” There was still no laugh at all.“That’s very funny, Mr. Pignati. That is very funny.”I suddenly noticed that she was getting bored, “I’m sorry if I’m taking up too much of your time, Miss Truman. You wanted a donation, did you say--for what charity?”“The L & J Fund, Mr. Pignati,” she responded.“I’ll be glad to send you ten dollars, Miss Truman. Where do I send it?”She told me she would pick up the money herself. When I hung up I was already looking forward to the visit.

13 Katy Tidd ’15

Tory Lynch ’14

Sibilla Grenon ’14

Kites on her socks

She wore kites on her socksBecause she thought they would help her fly

She’d sail through citiesAnd over seas

She’d get out of this life she is not loving.She’d escaped away, like we all want to.

She wore kites on her socksBecause she thought they would help her fly.

But what she didn’t know wasThat kites don’t land gracefully

They go and go;She went and went,

Then her energy ran out,The winds died,

And she learned the hard wayThat kites don’t land.

They crash. She tumbled back into the life

she was not living, Broken and battered.

She wears aeroplanes on her socks Because she thinks they will help her fly.

Devan Smith-Brown ’13

15

LEADVictoria Turnbill ’13

16

Speak, I listenShout

Tell me,How do you know to move?

Is it instinct?Passion?

Love?

I anger now, at homeWith shades open wide to glass shut tight

Keeping in the lies,The past,

The future,Letting my thoughts ricochet a thousand

timesWhile I try to sort life out

Tell me,How does one walk with purpose

Without knowing where to go?

Anonymous

Supna Prasad ’14

Equilibrium

I have no way to describe what we have, symbiosis maybe. The crossroads where biology and two kids one step away from a mental hospital stay. You pull left, I pull right, and somehow we’ve balanced, swaying back and forth in the breeze. Your bold smile, my gravedigger’s eyes; we’ve done it somehow. I can’t believe these words are mine, sweet and alien and so unlike the bitter pills I’ve choked on all these years. I find myself forgetting what worrying feels like. I’ve thrown all those things away, stiff and gray like the suits I’m too young to wear, and the nightmares I’m too alive to bear. I don’t care anymore, your hands on mine, pulling me to-wards you. I wonder why I even pull back anymore.

I should let myself go, fall backwards into your wonderland, hands pressed against yours as we look down at our universe, dangling beneath our feet. I would look like a queen, dishevelled and wild and perfect, and you, you would be the same you I’ve written a thousand times, the same you whose words kept me safe when all I wanted was one pill too many. As we breathe deep and float somewhere new, I won’t worry a single second, because I know that what we are is something too raw to replace.

So what if we’re wrong? So what if we waste our lives dancing and singing and ignoring the rules that were set to be broken? I’ll hold your hair a thousand mornings over if you promise you’ll never stop living this way. And if we dissolve together, we will leave our mark on every crack in the sidewalk, every cigarette crushed into asphalt. We will become every scar, every stitch pull-ing a broken soul back from heaven or hell. Through the cities we will live, and under the melting sun we will die. You pull, I pull back. Balance. I know it sounds crazy, but I think that we’ve got this perfect. You’ve shown me that our instability can be made our strength, and for that, I confess. I love you.

Lauren Simione ’14

19

Suji Kim ’14

Breakable

How we all collapse,So futile and useless,

Broken apart by yearsOf damage causedBy senseless beings.

So fragile,We are all so breakable.

Charlotte McIntosh ’14

21

Your hands are cold, they once were warm, At least I guessed they’d be.

It’s hard to hear, but darling dear With you I’ll never be.

I loved you once, oh yes it’s true, No more I feel this way.

Though my heart melted for you, In this I had no say.

My heart large and full of love Oh, for that handsome face.

Well angels carved that lovely brow But our love was but a race.

You the tortoise, and I the hare; You never seemed to know.

I understand it hurts a lot, And my heart lost that glow. I know this letter won’t be sent,

So please don’t ever fear.When years go by, remember me,

Your secret lover here.

22

Helen Yan ’15

Secret L o v e r Here

Marissa Posner ’14

To Yearn for the Uncontrollable

You’re the wind that violently blows against my window.

Yet you never breeze by when I need you the most.

And just as I lay my head down- you demand entrance.

But if I were to cave in, you would swiftly destroy my only place of security.And immediately leave to boast.

Although what can I expect from a being known for hurting.

Anna Merod ’13

24

Rachel Tate ’14

The month of July was by far the most insipid,It seemed to drone on endlessly,

I desperately wanted to do something,To dissolve myself in something,

So I took a walk outside under the scorching sun,I strolled through the secluded streets,

With the breeze blowing my hair and the rays of sun falling on my face,

And finally, when my bones ached from exhaustion,I collapsed onto my lawn,

Letting the blades of grass poke my thighs,As mud trickled through my bare toes,

I looked at the towering tree in front of me,And my eye caught sight of a small caterpillar hooked to a

thin branch,The caterpillar was green and worm-like,

And was not the typical definition of pretty,In fact, the sight of it would have frightened most,

But something about it captivated me,Something I could not quite catch a grip of,

So I returned to my lawn the next day,And the caterpillar hadn’t moved an inch,

But today, its tip was wrapped in a silver web of silk,And it was an entrancing sight to see,

Everyday I continued to return to my lawn,And the web would grow minutely,

Until finally a shell of grey fuzz had formed whole around the green creature,

And I would stare at it everyday,

Breaking out of the ShellKeertana Srinivasan ’14

26

Enamored with the magical process, the twisted cycle of life,

But I also began to worry endlessly, For I remembered that in second grade,

We’d learned that the process of metamorphosis was not simple,

In fact, it was excruciating and painful,And I longed to help the caterpillar,But I did not know what I could do,

So I continued to watch it more often every day,Making sure that it was out of reach from rain,And from hungry birds that lurked in the trees,

And one day, two weeks later, I walked out onto my lawn,

But I could not find my caterpillar,Its cocoon was broken,

Tears welled in my eyes; I’d lost a dear friend,So I sat on the cold drops of dew on my lawn for what felt like

hours,Until I felt a tickle on my shoulder,

And I turned to see the most beautiful thing in the world,Its wings were vibrantly bold and dazzling with color,

And it had the gentlest and softest look to it,I laughed and I cried,

For my friend had returned,Stronger and more mesmerizing than ever,It had turned into a breathtaking butterfly,

Free forever from the confinements,Broken from its shell

Suj

i Kim

’14

27

Anonymous

To that senseless Overrated pink thing that claims the underestimated intelligence in my headThis is for youDo you know that you are against superficial scholars?With their fancy, verbose, speechWho eliminate curse words from their repertoire Because they remain Far, far, far from real life,Where struggle is normal;And who lack the ability to sim-ply feel with me, their heart

My dear friend this is for you; An Admonition.I hate to break it to you, But you are in a fight, A battle against the queen of all languages: English.Everyone is against you,Because you possess the one thing that makes you differentthat simply no one can understand.

So don’t expect to understand mechanics, or grammar or anything dealing with English.And when they mention analysis; Run away.And when they tell you the “correct” way to analyze a picture or a sentence,

You still won’t get it No matter how hard you try. Because your gift is a curse, You make letters on a page trade places until their entire meaning changes, While jumping off the pageand ricocheting off your eyes.You see some sort of magic that’s just too abnormal. See, saying what I feel is better for me, because I can never say what’s on my mind.So don’t expect to do well on the SAT’s.You can kiss that 2100 goodbye,And an Ivy League education is not in your league.

But you do have one thing, and that is me;Your heart.Let us become one, and I will show you something magical Through this collision of you,a cerebral mushy thing and me, the holder of all your deepest, darkest secrets.Creating a ring, a swirl, a vortex of happiness battling beneath curls,We will dominate, Unleashing the chains and shackles.We will get high off of freedom.To create the unimaginable is our task,

WYLOPS 29

And to not get stuck and crammed in the boundaries of writers reference and OWL Purdue.Because we’re starting a coup, Overthrowing the “correct,” proper writing style,Soaring through the lines and spaces,Getting lost in the nooks and crannies on the black and white page, with our interpretation.

Breaking through any and every wall, the wall of vocabulary, Re-inventing words that apply to us,Some call it slang or improper speech,But the only thing improperis people’s lack of creativity.All because of my ability to connect with my soul,or know, that black thing deep down inside you, In a pandora’s box that unleashed demons, fairies,cyclops, and mcflurries, houdi-nis, susies, cousies, and wylops My dear friend, We will conquer the worlds of language together,And we will get people to see that there is more than just thinking mechanically; It’s okay to feel,

Especially when you really feel.It’s okay to express yourself through rhyme.In time, we will drink fromthe same fountain, And quenching our thirst will be this addictive potion, And we will reach Eudaimonia; true happiness.But just not yet,I must prepare myself for the worst,Because people never say your brain breaks in two,If we don’t succeed.And all of those mystical and fictional characters.Because our imagination ceases to exist when we showmore affection for mechanics and systematic measures. Instead, break down those barriers of fiction,Create our world throughexistence and diction,Reinventing the word, “creation,” Because who truly knows an inventor;The King of Creators.

I dare the SAT to test our smile instead of critical thinking and sentence completion And see that side of us, together.

Briaun Isreal ’13

30

Sibilla Grenon ’14

Eunice Kim ’14

Editors: Lauren Johnson Annie Liu Rebeca Elizondo Sibilla Grenon Helen Yan Ashley Cho Kelly Chen Sidney Lee Keertana Srinivasan Rebecca Leidenheimer Celia Parr Katharine Jiang Grace Owen Emily Glamb

Faculty advisors: Ms. Mattox Dr. Arizmendi Dr. Ward

acknowlEdgEmEnts:33

The Madeira School8328 Georgetown PikeMcLean, VA 22102