Collage by Becky Winter
Mireya M. is a senior at Legacy High School. Mireya has been creating Art for the last seven years. “Art is a passion of mine. It really helps me to express my feelings and emotions that I wouldn't normally share out loud.”
I want to speak to your imagination. Please close your eyes, and open your I Am.
Find the center. Find your root. Find the root that was once a seed. Sit with the full weight of your tree, upon this seed, and listen.
Listen to the words as they splash against your understanding, and ripple out, to the next word, lapping at your shores.
Listen to this story. A tale of a tree, that lives on an island, in the vast empty sea.
The island had risen to meet the tree, and the tree held the island fast above the waves.
The sea loves the island. The sea loves the tree.
The tree has lived with island for a thousand years. But alas, tree’s life is at its end.
The tree, with its very last light, brought forth to its branches a thousand seeds. Then tree and island slipped back into the sea. Leaving only the seeds, in the shape of a tree, now spreading away on the breeze.
The sea loves the breeze. The sea loves the seeds.
So the sea made itself quiet and still, until its surface became as untroubled as a mirror.
The seeds now see their own light, reflected by the sea, and see that they are seen, and see that they are loved.
The seeds come to know the what that is needed, and wake to the dream of their true desire. They speak the dream into the deep, and they are grateful.
The sea hears their wishes and prepares for them a place. A place to touch down. A place to take hold.
And the sea is grateful.
Tip The Scales
by Rafael S.
My body lying in total and complete relaxation on big soft marshmallow cloudy maca.
In a deep sleep, from afar, I hear a voice calling my name growing louder and hungrier for my attention.
Waking up in a panic —
I'm alarmed and slightly frustrated being woken from a good nap but
they couldn’t help themselves.
Their excitement bounced off the walls and, directly striking at me, they turned and asked me if I wanted to play an innocent game of Hide-and-Seek.
In a mental battle… should I play this game?
It's the day prior to my sister's important party.
a rite of passage for her and my family.
Every scenario of how this game could go runs through my mind.
I decide, what's the harm?
Running towards my cousins, every ounce of acknowledgment to ask my mother for permission fled out my mind
forced to leave from a Trojan Horse attack happening in my head
Little did I know that there was a greater force at play.
Something protecting the scales, or a sort of karma that keeps the balance between the good and bad at bay.
Halfway through the game, I was having the most enjoyable time. I was on top of a hill which felt like I was in charge of the world. I feel like that power got into my head for a bit longer than I thought.
When my partner in crime heard someone creeping close
he was quick to abort the mission and go into a secret bunker. I didn’t want to leave because I felt like we were fine but at the last minute, I left in a hurry.
That’s where my grandpa’s ranch got me back.
Since I left in a hurry I ran down the hill and stumbled over my feet and was
right before I reached the end and was going to hit my grandpa’s house,
it didn’t help that it was made out of bricks but
right before hitting, I flung my arms right in front of me to try and minimize the amount of force.
As soon as I hit the wall it all went dark, complete darkness and isolation overtook my mind.
When I passed out I could hear the ranch apologizing for what had to happen, it didn’t mean to do it but it had to be done. It told me that I tipped the scales and that a price needed to be paid in order for things to go back to how they were.
I soon woke up and realized that I’m on the ground with an excruciating amount of pain pulsating from my right arm.
That’s when I felt it,
a large amount of blood gushing down my nose. The amount was so severe, it looked like something out of Niagara Falls; it just would not stop.
That’s when I heard a muffled scream coming towards my direction, I will never forget the look my sister had and how pale she got. She got so pale that someone could misidentify her as a ghost.
She yelled to my father and he then came running towards where I was. It was so horrendous — blood everywhere, a body laying there lifeless, only flopping like a fish out of its tank trying to catch air — it looked like something out of a crime scene.
My father and sister came rushing towards me trying to sit me up. That's when I felt the pain coming from my arm.
I never thought that something like this would happen, something so innocent like a game can lead to a life-changing perspective.
I also didn’t think that the ranch would do something like this. I know that my grandpa’s farm couldn’t have possibly done this… or maybe it did.
I honestly have no idea, but I now choose not to
“tip the scales” so to speak.
Rafael is a junior at Southridge High School. He has four siblings, and works with Communities in Schools at Southridge.