n. beautiful thinking
i. time machines by Jessica Daniel, Class of 2023 [cw: violence]
ii. Hidden Bond by Nishka Joshi, Class of 2024
iii. Photography by Nathaniel Waterman, Class of 2022
iv. To Those Who Have Been Heartless by the GLI Club, Classes of 2022-4
in this capsule
Those nocturnal balls of gas
that everybody gazes at with awe.
People devote their entire lives
to learn about them.
I envy them,
but then realize,
stars are much like people.
They have celebrities:
The brightest star during the nighttime.
The brightest star during the daytime.
They have jobs
illuminating our sky.
Stars portray such beauty,
that anybody who lays their eyes upon them is blessed.
That is the part of the stars
that I am jealous of.
They are beautiful
without even trying.
They live long lives
bringing joy to people all around.
People await the night,
to have a chance to gape at their enchanting visage.
Do stars make mistakes, too?
Do they look at other stars and think,
I wish I looked like that.
Do they look at us during the daytime
and think, wow,
what a beautiful person.
Do they feel grief, pain, and fear?
They probably do not.
I so badly want to be a carefree star floating in space,
but even stars
run out of oxygen.
Darkness. A flock of stars.
A lovely flower:
something you rip out and toss aside.
Dream good dreams, my flower, my gul,
beneath the watchful gaze of gods.
Still standing, battered:
they would obliterate her in death.
Some days I think about leaving
those sharp memories,
but time is the most unforgiving of fires.
The possibilities denied. The hopes dashed
when nothing can be undone.
Isn’t dying once enough?
Like characters in a fable,
kings in a history book.
A poet buried beneath
the ground that soaked up their blood:
ancient, sun-bleached rock.
Kabul’s day of reckoning.
Cigarette smoke and thick, sweet cologne;
the rough pads of his tobacco-stained fingers
when he slid the ring on her.
A deep hush falls over everything,
and I can't breathe then.
How quietly we endure all that falls upon us.