The Bluestocking 2022-23

Jana Kalbasi | Grade 9 The Mosaic I am from a grandmother’s wish From across the globe, a hope For a bright and bubbly baby. I am from my parents’ devotion To make that wish come true.

I am from the kitchen counter, From the chairs, taller than Jack’s beanstalk. But my voice, carelessly confident Loud as the fireworks on New Year’s Eve, Singing in a language I fought to understand. I am from the tears, his tears and ours, As he woke up to his first day In a bed, a cloud in disguise. I am from the smiles and hugs and laughter. I am from a love like diamonds. I am from summers, sitting in a red wagon. Becoming the canvas for ice cream, Cold paint splattered precisely all over our faces. I am from those reminders To never buy ice cream in a cone.

I am from a dark cave, Not knowing where to go. My light has been extinguished. I run and scream and cry and shout But still, I remain alone.

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