Our Hope

By Zelphia Peterson

Our_Hope“And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.” (1 Peter 5:10)

How can you stay and suffer endless pain?

This life, the trials that it bears.

How can you fight to win the joys and gains

That lighten burdens, won so hard from cares?

What hope sustains, what lofty measure fills

The void that formed through years of dreams untold?

What ray of light defies the dark that kills;

What life endures, though death would make it cold?

What courage beats to strengthen hearts to love

In spite of curses loud, to walk the way

Not for the faint of heart without resolve?

A hope so bold it stirs a soul to say,

“Though through a hundred years of pain I’ve called,

I have still this—eternity with God.”


zelphia-petersonZelphia Peterson is twenty years old and a native of the Twin Cities region of Minnesota. Currently she lives with her parents and her sister as she pursues her master’s degree in Global Public Health. Ever since she wrote her first poem at a costume party in first grade, Zelphia has remained fascinated by wordplay in poetry. For her, perfection is when rhyme, rhythm, and aesthetic sound serve the meaning behind the poetry. She draws much of her inspiration from Scripture and the natural wonders of creation, as well as human experience in general. In her free time, Zelphia enjoys making music in any form, reading voraciously, painting, archery, camping and backpacking with her family, chatting with her sister, and serving her church. She hopes to someday serve the Lord in another country by using her training as a public health worker.

When My Lungs Burn

By Melinda Delamarter

I see you

You’re standing at the edge of this forest

Terrified

The entire world has already passed through

They’re living their lives on the other side in peaceful bliss

Unaware

Of the terror you go through every morning

Struggling to face the uncertainties that rise up and slap you every second

Unaware

Of the agony it takes for you to crawl out of bed each time the sun rises

Even though you know you’re facing seventeen hours of gut-wrenching pain

When_My_Lungs_Burn

[Read more…]

Hyperspace

Captain’s Log,

Stardate 70797.4

For thirteen hours and twenty-four minutes,

we have tailed the cosmic trail

of the vandalizing devils

who dared damage our ship’s hyperdrive.

I stare out the glass and into the black

that seems to be the color of my mood.

Hyperspace

The surrounding clusters of gas and rock,

stars, asteroids—

such maddening technicality—

are insistently scattered in our way.

My growing impatience covets an audience

with the supernova responsible.

Clean up after yourself, you haphazard accident!

[Read more…]

Profile photo of Cindy
Cindy Green is a Canadian homeschool student who wants to live in a world where rain is colorful and mint chocolate chip ice cream is acceptable for daily consumption. But she is contented to live in one where dogs exist, fireworks are a regular occurrence, and trees are climbable objects (though the winter season is consistently extended in the land of igloos and hockey, she has climbed trees in her snowsuit before, and she will do it again). She began scribbling out fiction and keeping a journal at around age seven, and last she checked, hasn’t stopped. Aside from obsessing over the arrangement of words and fantasizing about maple-syrup-coated beavertails, Cindy enjoys spending time playing piano, looking at pictures of outer space, loudly singing along to music, exploring the dictionary, attempting Highland dancing, and reading. She hopes to someday publish a book of her own, learn to skateboard without getting scraped, and witness the aurora borealis in the Yukon. Most of all, she wants to live her life colorfully and passionately for the glory of a good God and to point to her Creator as the source of all joy.

Seventeen

By Hannah Whatley

When I was a child, I spoke as a child;

I acted and thought and felt as a child,

But then I turned seventeen.

Seventeen

Seventeen—Oh, the great and glorious mystery,

Between the realms of infancy and maturity;

The questions of life that shape our future history

Are laid unadorned before us—Oh, the treachery

[Read more…]

Faith

By KayleighAnne Stanton

“What is faith?” my teacher asked,

his brow furrowed in wonder.

He didn’t know how I stayed strong

while the world was pulled asunder.

I could have given him a simple answer,

but instead I did not.

Faith

For Christ is king and died for me—

and that He would have not.

So I looked at him and smiled,

and began at the place to start,

sharing a song from my very heart.

[Read more…]

Majesty Complete

 By Joy Peklenk

The ground I stand on shrinks below my feet

As does my soul and my great worlds inside

As I gaze up to majesty complete

To glowing specks of fire that melt my pride

Majesty_Complete

How distant are those hypnotizing dots

How radiant those terrible ghosts of light

And all of this land’s sights and sounds, they rot

When my young eyes and those ghost lights unite

[Read more…]

Greenflower

A sunflower grows

in the melting blue of an ombré pot

on the windowsill of my sunlit room.

The suggestion of my supportive friends

Greenflower

is advice I can attest to:

It benefits a plant

if you talk to it

and sing to it,

and whether it’s owed to the music of my voice,

or the carbon dioxide brimming from my lips,

I talk anyway,

and I wonder

if it would help me grow

if I could hear You talk to me.

[Read more…]

Profile photo of Cindy
Cindy Green is a Canadian homeschool student who wants to live in a world where rain is colorful and mint chocolate chip ice cream is acceptable for daily consumption. But she is contented to live in one where dogs exist, fireworks are a regular occurrence, and trees are climbable objects (though the winter season is consistently extended in the land of igloos and hockey, she has climbed trees in her snowsuit before, and she will do it again). She began scribbling out fiction and keeping a journal at around age seven, and last she checked, hasn’t stopped. Aside from obsessing over the arrangement of words and fantasizing about maple-syrup-coated beavertails, Cindy enjoys spending time playing piano, looking at pictures of outer space, loudly singing along to music, exploring the dictionary, attempting Highland dancing, and reading. She hopes to someday publish a book of her own, learn to skateboard without getting scraped, and witness the aurora borealis in the Yukon. Most of all, she wants to live her life colorfully and passionately for the glory of a good God and to point to her Creator as the source of all joy.

Dancing in the Dark

By Isabelle Evans

I put my headphones in,

And I begin to sway,

I rock back and forth to the music

And welcome in the day.

Dancing_in_the_Dark

No one knows I hear it,

I doubt they’d even care,

But my music is special,

I find my quiet here.

[Read more…]

Queen of the Adriatic

By Emily Bunker

You are called the most wonderful Queen of the Sea,

And I say the city of water you be.

Crowned with the gold of many far lands,

The fate of the world’s wealth is in your hands.

Wide, clear-blue waterways, main streets they are,

Cool, damp back alleys, dirty and dark.

The former is told of, the latter is not;

The first is clean, without soiled spot.

It is transparent, crystalline blue,

And all of its merchants are honest and true.

[Read more…]

Echoes of Spring

By Moriah Simonowich

In beauty as elegant as a pearl,

Another day crisply unfurls.

Echoes_of_Spring

From God’s treasure house of gems

Come chill March winds,

Echoing the season of spring;

They whirl, twirl, and ring.

Clouds in transparent white wisps

Move about in drifts—

Sails billowing on a sea of blue;

In a sky of clearest hue.

[Read more…]