“My Fist” by Anonymous
Untitled by Katya Naphtali
Untitled by Jane LaVare
“Arnold the Elephant” by Haiz Diallo
Hi, I’m Arnold and I’m an elephant. I am just like every other elephant in the center of South Africa. It’s just that I am brown. All the other elephants tease me and say I was born from my mom’s butthole. I’m supposed to be gray like all the others. At least, that’s what they all say. Wait, or are they supposed to be brown? No, because everyone is supposed to be gray because that’s what society says.
One day, I went home crying because all the elephants teased me. I didn’t quite make it home. I saw something brown from the corner of my eye. I walked over very carefully and there it was: a big brown potato. He was crying. So I sat down and gave him some company. He said, “All the other potatoes are pink!”
I said, “Don’t worry, all the other elephants are gray and I am brown.” I thought to myself and added, “You know what, Daniel? It’s okay to be different.”
And he said, “Yeah, Arnold. We are unique.”
“That Red Balloon” by Lela
It was a grey evening.
Fall was beginning and the coldness lurked around our
town like a big heavy blanket.
The trees shook while the wind blew my hair all
over my face. I looked up at those dark clouds
covering the sky. The moon peeked out from
behind one. It was so reliable. Always
there. Just as you left it.
Then, I saw it. That red balloon.
It was just floating. Going
so high, swaying in whatever
direction the wind took
it, but always going
up. Always, always, going
up. Getting higher, getting
more free, getting away.
That red balloon, flying
so free. I wish I could
be just like that red
balloon, swaying in the wind
but always going up — until
it popped. It would pop
on a tree branch in the
way, blocking its path
to freedom. Blocking it from going to where it felt it
belonged.
“Me” by Atticus Elsass
The crickets croak like dying dogs
I sit alone.
Nothing to help me
I was nothing.
Nobody believed me when I said I was
normal,
That I thought the same way
I turn on the lights
I am exposed.
I am me.
Then I am shamed and shunned.
Until I decide
that hiding me is for the better.
And I know what I have to
do.
I tried and tried to ignore,
Hate, and fights galore
I am pushed around
as I hear that cricket sound.
I am not alone.
But that doesn’t change anything.
In fact, it makes it
worse.
Knowing that others are facing the
same.
I must hide
Until the crickets recede
And I can be free
as who I am.
I turn off the lights
and curl up and wait…
Untitled by Anonymous
I was meant to be happy
Most of all jolly
Every leaf represented me
One day
A girl came
She leaned on me
and took my angry leaf.
I couldn’t get mad at her
Another day
An old lady came
She said, “Ooh, what a beautiful purple leaf.”
And took my disgust leaf.
I couldn’t be disgusted by her
The next day
A little boy came
He sat near me
And took my fear leaf
I couldn’t be fearful for the rest of my leaves
The week after
A man came
He talked to me
And took my sadness lead
I couldn’t be sad that he took my leaf
A month after
A woman came and sang to me
She took my joy leaf
I couldn’t be jolly anymore
After that I felt no emotions
I felt nothing.
*Inspired by Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree.
“Expression” by Anonymous
I am a grenade ready to explode
through the invisible glass barrier
they keep me in. Whenever I stand
tall , and strong, they always put a
hot hand on my head and shrink
me. Clasping me into the small flower
seed that worked so hard to grow
out of.
This place needs expression, this place
needs to let petals of color unfurl
in the wind and grasp the plain
things that stealthily bore this place.
I try to help. I walk on the gray
cobblestones, letting my feet splatter
paint on them. I try to shine, shine
brighter than the veneer they spread on
wood floors.
But everyone worries. And that
worry blinds them, it blinds them
from seeing past the plainness.
That’s why they shrink me.
“Zhigira” by Angie and Diego
Zhigira is now in seventh grade and has a big crush on a boy, Angel. Angel was a nice guy, respected by the whole school — unlike Zhigira. One day, Lilith locked Angel and Zhigira in a janitor’s closet. They spoke, and Zhigira realized that Angel was really mean.
She really liked him, and she confessed. But then, he said, “Talk to the hand, everyone loves me.” She was heartbroken and done with liking him. That closet felt like it was closing in on her slowly, but not slow enough. No matter where she was, she felt that closet closing in on her. Good things always come to an end.