LITERARY JOURNAL OF WILLIAM CAREY UNIVERSITY 2021
Department of Language and Literature Laurinda Johnson Diane
The Maker Flower The Indigo 2021
William Carey University CONTENTS
Landon Adams 22 Burning Bridge 28 American Absalom Rachel Ann Farnham Stephanie Arnold 27 Not Downtrodden 23 Benjamin we go to Baton Rouge 24 Snowset Peace Bailey Adkins Virginia Fennell 34 Holoferne 34 Questions Julia Berry 36 Wealth 34 Searching Thomas Ford 35 Okay 48 A Mask of Raindrops Leanna Grace Blakeslee Cl ay Gr aves 12 Her 42 Chapel 46 Xikrins Boy Gr ant Guthrie Emily Branan 4 To Mr. Frost 30 Me and You, Through the Seasons 20 Impermanence Garry Breland 24 Supplications Upon Reading 9 Requiem for a Wheel Kierkegaard’s Purity of Heart Rose Bruce 21 Garden Lesson 44 Unfailing Love Jacob Havard Allison Chestnut 5 Untitled, Charcoal 40 Grate Anna Henderson Robert Cox 37 Brush Creek 53 Count and Do Not Rhyme 14 Heaven’s Splendor Dailynn Davis 17 Just Breathe 53 Answer Dewanda Dawn Hutchinson 32 Books 33 The Crossroads 21 Paper Nature Gabrielle Hulin Kimberly DeLorenze 34 Paths 10 Deluge 46 Future Michael DeLorenze Laurinda Diane Johnson 26 España Cover, The Flower Maker Loretta Fairley Lauren Ashley Jones 7 Relevance 7 Teachers 25 2020 Christian Lovett 25 Bumblebee 26 Awaiting Conversation Teensy Treasures Trinity Stewart 25 Mankind 23 Expressions of Spring Editor’s Notes C. S. Lewis said, “Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is CONTENTS Continued written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see.” (Who knows what that means?) Every other Indigo starts with a quote and I do not want to break tradition. If you read the Editor’s notes from previous editions, each year contained a new obstacle. Murph Little Deanna Roberts This year is the same, with trials which we advance through, for the university, as a country, 7 Arson 10 Depths and, perhaps, the modern world. I feel like The Indigo reflects the gamut of emotion, faith, Alysen Matthews 45 Koi Pond imagination, and humanity during those trials where every moment becomes important. It 48 179 Skulls 44 Night Lines takes bravery to share a part of oneself with others, in any medium. It is the intrepidity we 19 Untitled Jennifer Scroggins anticipate in the writings of the Carey family, each person writing miracles in small letters, Mike Madaris 47 UnMasked sharing common stories that are a different echo in the retelling. We encourage looking for 18 Behind the Smiles Meagan Smith a reflection of yourself within the pieces. 38 Two Ticket Stubs 5 For my Mammaw, Toshiko Pigford, Sincerely, Darian McCord who has gone home. Kimberly DeLorenze, Graduate Student Editor 43 Holy Name 22 Prism 39 Words Raymond Smith What a year. Few normal things have continued but writing and creativity are two of the few things that always continue. In fact, writing and creativity often flourish in times of hardship, 15 Loved Me First 37 Tree creating poets and writers out of people who would not usually have the time or desire to sit Rebecca Ann Mowdy Trinity Stewart and create. The talents of William Carey’s students, alumni, faculty, and staff are inspiring. I 8 Wagon Wheel 34 Invertebrate hope you enjoy reading The Indigo as much as we have enjoyed editing it. 7 Untitled Frontispiece - Teensy Treasures 25 Bird Tree Rebecca Lauren Thompson Sincerely, 20 Sunset Back Cover - Life’s Replacement Emily Branan, Undergraduate Student Editor Sydney D. Myers 32 Soul Scream 36 Still Life Alayna Weathers Jessie Parker 32 Alice Acknowledgements It is with much appreciation that we express gratitude to all persons who contributed to The Indigo. There were many insightful submissions, making the production of this edition a joyful 4 Ceramic Totem 31 Sonnet process. We have been energized and challenged by the exceptional talent of students, 12 Nocturnal Sar ah Wedgeworth faculty, staff, and alumni. The Indigo staff offers special thanks to Dr. Ed Ford for lending Sage Pendergr ass 32 Quest his expertise in design and layout. We also thank Mrs. Barbara Tillery for printing copies 31 Inside Out Chloe Wicker of The Indigo for those who wished to have a tangible version. It has been a great honor Jessica Pulivarthi & Janie Wiggins 15 The Axe Forgets working with and having the support of so many, particularly the Department of Language 11 Primrose Mnemosyne 14 Notre Dame and Literature. Within that department, Mrs. Dolores O’Mary was our lifeline when we had Jessica Pulivarthi 45 Vertigo questions and Dr. Tom Richardson, our department chair, was our foundation. Now, it is 11 Primrose Bethanie Wilson with great enthusiasm and consideration that we present this edition of The Indigo to our 34 Friend’s Gesture readers, and we hope you find something relatable and enjoyable inside. Sincerely, The Indigo Editors Kimberly DeLorenze, Co-Editor Emily Branan, Co-Editor Allison Chestnut, Faculty Sponsor
Font Cover: Laurinda Diane Johnson, The Flower Maker, The Indigo is a publication of William Carey University, All Rights Reserved. Back Cover: Rebecca Lauren Thompson, Life’s Replacement
2 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 3 To Mr. Frost (An Open Letter After Reading “Pea Brush,” “Putting In The Seed,” “A Time To Talk,” And “The Cow In Apple Time”) by Grant Guthrie I confess my affection for you Though in time, geography, and creed We are most aptly described as separate As two poets, both farmers, can be. Untitled-Charcoal Jacob Havard For my Mammaw, Toshiko Pigford, We two are in love with the small things who has gone home. Of the earth, the unnoticed event
That shoulders its way to the surface by Meagan Smith Amid those of more anxious intent. I don’t know if I truly understood my Mammaw (grandmother, for those not fluent in Southern) until last year. All the little pieces of her, the In your lines the mundane is awakened memories I have and the stories I was told all fell together as I learned As a seed, after rain in its season, about the Japanese artform “Gaman.” Finds its strength in the quickening sun The word “Gaman” means “to endure the seemingly unbearable with And lends mystery to the gardener’s reason. patience and dignity.” This verb turned into the name of an art form and was a huge piece of the Mammaw puzzle for me. But, to help you reading, I’ll briefly explain how Japanese Americans practiced Gaman Cautious friends will admonish my kinship internment campus during WWII. With you, I do so myself. After Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, Americans, government and citizens More canonical pundits are present alike, were scared. So, the government gathered Japanese Americans and forced them to live in internment camps from 1942-1945. They Taking rest in their homes on my shelf. were not comfortable places. They were not home. The people there were expected to press pause, idle their lives, until the government decided to let them go. But when senses are hungry for pricking Your thin volume I take from its place A large number of internees were children, and the adults in the camps were determined to help them keep their innocence and to prepare To hold nature’s delight to my bosom, them for when they could live free. So, they organized themselves: Ceramic Totem doctors, teachers, seamstresses, artists, dance instructors, athletes, Her creator’s purpose to trace. Jessie Parker
4 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 5 engineers, drafters of architecture… they When they returned to America, they Arson made a community. came back to nothing. She not only had to by Murph Little adjust to Southern culture and to the scorn Dana’s grandparents met in an internment of Americans who did not like Japanese Arson was a word reserved for fiction camp and one of Dana’s most prized people, but she and her husband also had until the fire swept up possessions is an umbrella, 6 inches in to build a life from the ground up with her diameter, made from toothpicks, a broken first child on her hip. And yet, they built a and called us from our home chopstick, and cigarette papers. It’s beautiful life anyway. She found Christ, she to watch a second die. beautiful. Dana found a book called The Art made friends, she opened the eyes and of Gaman by Delphine Hirasuna where she hearts of a community as she endeared discovered that internees planted gardens, herself to them. made broaches, painted masterpieces, created dolls, formed delicate miniature She was a wonderful seamstress, making flower arrangements, and more—all out of clothes for her 4 children including gorgeous things they found. Trash discarded, bottles couture dresses for her two daughters. (She and jars all used up. made an Easter dress or two for me, too, I just remembered.) Untitled The Japanese-Americans used creativity Rebecca Ann Mowdy to endure the seemingly unbearable She laughed fully with her whole body, with patience and dignity during this nothing held back, and she loved with unfathomable experience. I believe my her whole soul. Her life wasn’t all bad Mammaw did the same. She was not experiences she had to repurpose, but she Relevance Teachers in America during WWII. She met my always took the trash, the leftovers, and grandfather in Japan after graduating from made beautiful things you could hold in by Loretta Fairley by Lauren Ashley Jones a prestigious college in Japan, which was your hands and beautiful things you could very strange because women in Japan hold in your heart. Gaman. the meeting drags on Students vienen, entonces they go, did not normally go to college then. She about something Pero the bonds siempre they grow. worked as an English translator at a hospital, My cousin Amy told me a story that I think and my American soldier grandfather was epitomized how my Mammaw lived her life: irrelevant Cuando se gradúan there to fix the morgue refrigerators. He every year my grandfather would buy a cow, Y no los veo anymore, didn’t have the proper paperwork and and my grandmother would love it. At the Mammaw wouldn’t let him in—thus began end of the year, they would butcher it, and my eyes fall on a map Still, them I will remember the Tsukasaki/Shumock romance. my grandmother would cry for the cow. of Afghanistan Y estuve feliz
She was disowned twice—once when she That is how I want to love, repetitively without and I wonder Porque they will tener éxito married my grandfather and once again the anticipation of loss. That is how I want how many soldiers died Y I will haré hecho after the war was over and her family had to live, boldly without the anticipation of a chance to invite her back in. They didn’t. failure. Though Mammaw was inhibited by while I sat here todo lo que pude. Her brother did give her his first name to a stroke for years and years, all the way until use as a last name, though. That had to the end, she still chose Christ and Gaman. have been so painful, and yet, she was part is this what they’re of the foundation of a beautiful family. Her art was living well. fighting to protect? Her craft was love.
6 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 7 Requiem for a Wheel by Dr. Garry Breland
Nice as this is, I wonder what it would be like To have pictures of the whole wagon Instead of just this one wheel. After all, We take more pictures of weddings than of funerals.
In an earlier picture, a young man Might be urging a mule along a sandy track, Wagon stacked high with watermelons, Bound for town on market day.
The shot could capture this one wheel And the furrow creasing the farmer’s brow While he calculated earnings after the rent On land, shack, wagon, and mule.
Another image could show the wagon At rest by a moon-dappled chinaberry tree, The window in the sharecroppers’ shack Glowing feebly with their hopes and dreams.
But as happens to us all, this wheel’s days For freighting either sorrow or joy Lie well in the earth’s past revolutions— An antique implement, come to rest in reverie.
This picture probably had to wait until students In photography class were assigned a project Showing mastery of the principles Of light, line, shape, texture, and perspective.
And on the day they all went forth Wagon Wheel This one wheel was all that remained— Rebecca Ann Mowdy The sole survivor of its fellows. Maybe it was squeaky and got all the grease.
8 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 9 Primrose Mnemosyne by Jessica Pulivarthi and Janie Wiggins The towers begin to crack and fade; Flowers bloom and flowers grow; The pirates raise anchor and sail away. Mountains rise and rivers flow. The war-torn child falls to her knees, From child to youth, the bitter trance Patching her wounds with memories. Drifts about Time’s endless dance But her wounds will not remain Pervading through breaths and sighs, Nor her tears forever stain, Life begins through air-struck cries. For life goes on in lands anew, It then continues, in mother’s arms- And where there’s war, peace comes too. Carefree, innocent, and unalarmed
Depths From bairn to child in few short years, Deanna Roberts Strollers, diapers disappear, Replaced instead by mermaid’s tails, Deluge Faerie rings and wishing wells. by Kimberly DeLorenze
Treetops refract daylight Life then halts, or so it’d seem: Ankles brushing dewed grass Clear and bright, an endless dream. I dust sand from notched letters The days go by in princesses’ towers, With boisterous pirates and superpowers. Sliding fingers across granite Thunder pounds The stars are yours to command; Rain trickles around an angel statuette You hold the earth within your hand. Wilting a fresh arrangement All the world is at your feet; Gladiolus were your favorite The very sun is in your reach. Mud pools at my feet, knees, throat, mouth But life cannot remain or stay, Until my vision blurs Girl with Bandage And, too soon, youth floats away. Jessica Pulivarthi Just as you reach for the sky, As age must come, then youth must die.
10 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 11 voice was taken over by those not affected to what they wanted her to be, and not as by this ever so innocent handicap, being empathetic to their own predestined state forgotten with nothing else to give. of mind. Instead, her call to action pierced the ears of her critics, encouraging others Warrioress. Although she was considered to persevere. The way she attended to a liability to some, she never let her society’s outcasts offended anyone still deformity restrain her from what she knew conforming to age old expectancies. Her she wanted. In a world of bias, it was a altruistic customs motivated women and constant battle to simply keep standing, men alike to follow the path she had spent to keep herself aloft in a society constantly a lifetime forging through the haze of straining to keep her from her dreams. Sick traditions long set in place against the wills of her affliction, she began to fight; not of innocent-minded people. She was in on bloodthirsty battlefields but within the every way what society knew they needed - streets of her own town. With fire in her someone radical enough to challenge what veins, she roared her battle cry, declaring had come before and build a new society she would not be forgotten, she would not entirely focused on building up one another play victim to the destructive tendencies in love, no matter their predisposition. of others, under no circumstances would she be trampled into dust by oppression. Heroine. She had spent all she had She was not alone in the fight, and when defending her cause. Years had passed she joined the ranks, she led the surge of and she had done so much for her world; army against army, unstoppable in the face made such an insurmountable impact that of tyranny. With admiration in their eyes, her legacy could not be lost or forgotten. others plagued by her disease began to But still, there was something wrong in the call her courageous; inspirational, they way she herself viewed her own position. murmured among one another, rising To her it was still a disease. She looked Nocturnal Jessie Parker again with renewed strength. Despite her inward and saw the corruption, the black Her disadvantages, her prowess engulfed her infection of the world’s hate had inevitably enemy’s ideologies which once ravished conquered a piece of her mind. This she by Leanna Grace Blakeslee those suffering from the same restraint she could not accept. Suddenly - this girl, this suddenly found herself living for. warrioress, this queen - had to save herself from the disease she had spent so long Girl. She was born into the world at a disadvantage; not of the monetary Queen. Marred by battle scars and saving others from; she knew it was up to kind or of physical deformity and certainly not in status. Instead, her memories of comrades ousted by liars and her, and her alone, to rescue herself and disability lingered when least expected. In her education when her cowards, she rose above her deformity. change her own perspective. Perhaps it teachers offered no challenge or help, saving their breath for those Her reputation spread, and soon she could was not a disease. What if what she had assumed to have more strength, more courage, more independence. be found in the hearts and minds of little advocated was not a disadvantage or a For those with more machismo. It was in those unforeseen moments victims growing up into the same disease. disability or even a liability? What if it was of public solitude when predators lingered; when she could feel their To them, she was ethereal; a celestial icon her strength? eyes stray a little too long, waiting for their opportunity to pounce. brought down from the heavens, sent to Her disease was in the very essence of what was expected of her - lead them to freedom. She was in no way Woman. Finally, she had come into her own. how her life was assumed to take place, with its specific compilation what society wanted - not quite as placid She continued to grow and understand of events all planned out before she was even born and far before she as they had deemed fit, not as attentive in every situation she encountered. But had become to exist. It was even in simple conversation, when her
12 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 13 now, she understood her womanhood vast amounts of hope and determination. Loved Me First was her most powerful ally. It was what It was in her persistent way of steadfast gave her strength, courage, and her own resistance in every conflict which failed by Darian McCord independence to continue on in a world to tear her down, and in how she offered To Earth you came as a lowly babe craving equality. It was in her the world forgiveness and peace to those who realized what it had been searching for: were only now beginning to realize the Born to die a death to conquer the grave from her ability to aid others, to the way shortcomings of their past. This is where You came to suffer in a world you created she challenged innumerable foes with her she found her femininity. Bringing life even though you were hated Brought down a love we could only imagine Notre Dame Walked to a cross You knew would happen And I can sing for years by Chloe Wicker Praise You every word see the flickering chandeliers But You always love more lighting these hallowed halls Because You loved me first
many pilgrims walked their length Up from the grave with scars in Your hands the last have gone—i never will Redeeming us, the ones who wanted Your end You gave us grace, breaking our chains You marked our victory with Your blood and pain the future slips away in smoke You chased after us when we ran away while past glories crash around us With open arms pierced by nails we made I can sing for years look at these columns of history Praise You every word walls greyed by time and worship But You always love more Because You loved me first tireless warriors strive for victory facing blame and fruitless solutions You loved me before I was even born You loved me as a sinner, shattered and torn even now the unforgiving fire burns You loved me before I ever gave You praise inside footprints that never were You loved me as You bled on the cross I made And I can sing forever Praising every word someday, a footnote of history But You always love more Heaven’s Splender today, the weary world’s sorrow Anna Henderson Because You loved me first
14 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 15 The Axe Forgets by Chloe Wicker
I will teach my children how to cry. The axe forgets How to release the tightness in their chest Enough to name the emotions within You have more children. What is one black sheep amongst so many golden ignorant? No one taught me how to cry. What is one disillusioned, broken-hearted child? A twelve-year-old should be able to weep without becoming the villain The tree remembers
You said that second place was the first loser I was first to call you father. But no matter how many times I succeed, no matter how many times I am first, What is one shattered childhood amongst the years of my life? I am still your first born What is one missing piece from a heart you should have helped make whole? I am still the first loser The axe forgets, You say that children have a sensitive meter when it comes to hypocrisy but the tree remembers Maybe that is why I’ve questioned every word from your mouth Just Breathe since I was old enough to understand Anna Henderson that blood does not equal love
The tree remembers
The closest thing to a lie is a graceless truth And I cannot remember the last moment you were tender
When did you say I love you as anything more than a farewell? When did you express pride without qualification? When did you ever accept your fault in this brokenness?
The hardest thing about a mirror is the sight of you And I do not know how to separate my wounds from my healing
How do I keep my confidence from becoming your arrogance? How do I keep my determination from becoming your harshness? How to I keep my charisma from becoming your manipulation?
16 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 17 when the Korean War broke out. (This combat with his company. If you know the was long before it became “Last Chance classic TV show “M.A.S.H.”, that’s where U.” in the ESPN documentary.) He, along wounded men were sent after Papa & his with his entire team(!), went active duty in fellow medics stabilized them on the front the military. There is a statue on campus lines. He also rarely talked about his time commemorating them, which includes there, but a vivid memory for me is one Papa’s name. He was trained as a combat time when he briefly mentioned it. He & medic. I were getting some cattle feed to take to Now, look at those smiles again before we his cows when a bag was dropped & made go behind them a bit. a loud, strange noise. After just staring into Dad was on a ship as part of the Invasion space for a brief moment, he looked at me force heading toward Japan when we & said, “You know a sound that you can dropped the Atomic bombs on a couple never forget?” [Me] “What’s that, Papa?” of Japanese cities, which resulted in the [Him] “The sound of enemy machine gun end of World War II in the Pacific theater. bullets hitting the side of the steep hill Thus, he became part of the Army of right over your head as you’re tending to Behind the Smiles the Occupation instead of the Invasion a wounded man.” That’s all he said about force. His first duty post? Nagasaki. The it.
18 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 19 Impermanence Garden Lesson by Grant Guthrie by Grant Guthrie
Teach us to number our days. A garden is no worse for weeds, The latter ensuring an epic struggle against Nature, Man and sweat to wrestle fruit from the soil, There are things more permanent Hard subsistence to justify the pains taken for existence. On earth than our loose cohesion Of atoms so lately settled; Anxious intent would scour the breadth of every plot For intruders to devour, before roots could establish Our recent bodies flung outright Their depth beneath those of the nurtured elect, From dust gathered in every corner, Intentions to tilt the scales in favor of the desire harvest. The refuse of the garden now collected To form the tissue of the spleen. But not for me! I want to feel my strength, After fruit, thorn, and thistle have worked their struggled fates Laws of matter manage the give and take Together, in fair competition for soil and sun, Of an equation never tipped in our favor. Into a tenuous cohabitation of all things fair and foul. There is stone that has seen A billion days and more men Only then, when the weeding is worth its volume of sweat, To wrestle the refuse from its rightful place Exhaust their lives in breaths And nourish my unnatural dominion as man That will nourish intercontinental trees. To bend a small world to his will. One could make good use of humility, A complimentary partner to our impermanence.
Sunset Rebecca Ann Mowdy Paper Nature Dailynn Davis 20 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 21 Prism Burning Bridge Benjamin we go to Baton Rouge by Meagan Smith by Loretta Fairley by Stephanie Arnold
Yesterday, Sometimes we burn a bridge I am at the point I put on my going-out glasses. of barrenness in The burgundy ones with the without realizing it MY RUTH rhinestones in the corner.
holding on to I thought Only when we look back the sprouted seedling What am I waiting for? under the ground or do we know something changed wondering I can’t wait forever. HOW LONG WILL I FEEL or but we don’t know why THIS WAY? I’m tired of waiting. how or
A mix of the three. and I hold the or when little hand of
I didn’t spend the day my redeemer and
stare into his pushing them up my nose We may never understand smile that gives or adjusting my sight around a scratch in the lens. but it forces a decision me purpose that doesn’t sway with And, when the sun HOW I FEEL ABOUT reflected off the rhinestones, Rebuild MYSELF. a prism of color or walk away caught my attention. I thank God for my valleys and YOU, I didn’t mind the diversion. my boy, who has I welcomed the jolt of joy
that comes from something removed my easy unexpected and painless. escape and glued me to this world Today, though, FOR CHANGE <3 I cleaned and stored them away. Expressions of Spring Christian Lovett Put on my everyday specs,
22 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 23 Supplications Upon Reading 2020 Mankind Bumblebee Kierkegaard’s Purity of Heart by Loretta Fairley by Loretta Fairley by Loretta Fairley by Grant Guthrie A bumblebee drones around Mass shootings Why must it be about Keep us from our dreams. Teach us to will one thing. going everywhere Their way leads on to many ends Our confession would unseal the division, political unrest straight or gay and nowhere
Would reveal out disparate ends, Always prophesying satiation pandemics I wonder what Yet never measuring to the stature of desire. Would unearth the many paths, some taken, black or white his purpose is They turn ever more tightly about the truth, Some not, but all promising the fruition natural disasters he seems so aimless Without arrival, Of our orchestrated aims. feminist or chauvinist social media so pointless Shifting, changing color to compensate, We are not single, but so meaningless Dressed for any weather In our confession would shake off yadda conservative or liberal
And ready, when satisfaction dictates These many bands just wasted energy yadda old or young To move toward more favorable climes. And be bound freely to faith’s singleness.
yadda I suspect God fat or skinny Encourage our feet to wander, Set our hearts in eternity, looks at me Never settling too soon in the land For we may never sift from time atheist or believer and thinks the same thing Or staking an impermanent home Sand enough properly to lay that foundation, Let’s you and I
Among stones and fields we will have to leave Stone enough rightly to build our own tower. sit on the porch why can’t we just be We had not expected such a cost ------Again, to move more surely fellow human beings To our surer destination. And have paid too dearly already drink coffee Lean us to the pilgrim’s way. For longings we cannot keep. and talk Satisfy us with rest from our designs Distract us from our comfort, while the birds sing Our selected response, chosen And grant to our hands new labor For its ease more than truth. That will not pass away. ------
Snowset Peace Bird Tree Rachel Ann Farnham Rebecca Ann Mowdy
24 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 25 España Not Downtrodden by Michael DeLorenze by Rachel Ann Farnham
Student Interview Poem for She cannot eat as much here You slander my name in the street, Conversing with siblings and friends. Spanish Artifact Project The food chokes her mouth with toxic poisons And mock my kin ‘neath a smile of teeth. My limit can only be found, That her stomach does not understand You aim to show me my place here When I am told I am finished. She sits in reserved patience So unlike the healthful abundance from home To knock me off my pedestal. Where I belong is determined Excited that someone You think I reside in the clouds, By He who names eternal heirs. asking for an interview One thing makes her pause from leaving here Conversing with birds and their sounds. Is interested in her culture To go back to the beauty of Spain You say I know not my limits, My feet stand firm upon the Rock, She sees freedoms That I seek what should not be mine. While you shake upon shifting sand. We discuss greetings Stripped away by a dictator You claim I do not belong where I fly only with an eagle, shaking hands, confused with The proper heirs spend their good time. And you climb high on your victims. cheek kissing, “the norm” Safety is a feeling she craves He says to build others kindly, In her beloved España She hopes one day In the street, I speak well of you, But you destroy them cruelly. To have her España return to normal And your kin find in me a friend. You tell the world you are holy, And her normal return with it My place I have known for some time, Yet your actions show what is true. A pedestal it could not be. Focus on the task He gave you, I reside upon solid ground, While I continue doing mine.
Awaiting Conversation Corner Wings Christian Lovett Rebecca Thompson
26 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 27 American Absalom by Landon Adams
Forced across the ocean of innocence, The son usurped his father’s throne. His sister was abused and disgraced. Now it was the king’s turn to flee. Shackled by the grip of a man, Oppressed takes the place of oppressor, Sharing blood but not resemblance. A vicious cycle seemingly without end. Objective crime in a world of subjective judges, “For my sake, don’t harm the young man, Absalom,” A privileged prince wearing daddy’s shoes. Commanded gentleness was a poor substitute for the father’s own The king was angered but unmoved to action. love. Justice was denied. Captain Joab never was one for orders. Years of silence hardened the heart. A spear shattered the hardened heart, Of the unwilling body hanging on the tree. Venting his righteous anger, Who could blame him for his crime? “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! The world’s evil embodied in a brother, Would I have died instead of you! Justice served? Or Cain’s footsteps traced anew? “O Absalom, my son, my son” Sent him down to Charon’s ferry, How hollow the words of David, the king. Fled the scene with his nineteen men. Was this God’s best? Was this the chosen one? The king was grieved but unmoved to action. No. This was not the man. Brother against Brother. The true King roused himself from his holy dwelling. Years of separation hardened the heart. Hanging helpless, another spear shatters another heart. The perfect heart inside a willing body. The distance great-the silence greater. Outside intervention brokered peace in name alone. “O my son Adam, my son, my son Adam! A divided house no more, so long as, I died instead of you! The son stayed in his shack. By my death I have made a way for peace Separated and unequal, he burned down his neighbor’s field. I have made one new man out of the two.” His father’s attention for a moment to command, The king was alarmed but unmoved to action. Forgiveness, reconciliation, and justice all withheld. Years of passivity hardened the heart.
28 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 29 Me and You, Sonnet Through the Seasons by Alayna Weathers by Emily Branan He stands against the smokestacks bruised, Summertime with you is always a dream, just another “sorry, forgive me” speech. year after year, there are nothing but smiles. My walls drop down, I let you back in, and while her ghost around him lingers; Driving down hardy, blonde hair in the wind. fall back into your arms without a care. Here on your right side, I look to the left, A man the war had long abused, see you there and see you smiling at me. All too quickly, it is January. with a lit cigarette between his fingers. Our bodies find their way back together, In a society of swiping right, But our hearts are still way too far apart. real interaction is becoming rare. He rests with a gun beside his head— Emotions are replaced by emojis, April comes, we have both pushed past the pain. we put up walls to hide our feelings, so communication helps to regain trust, His enemies now are many; love is rare, but is something we both share. Perhaps one day we’ll be as we once were. Inside Out How lucky we are to be in love now, May flowers bloom. As they find the warm sun, Nightmares with him share the bed, Sage Pendergrass at only seventeen, we have no worries, My heart finds his. We are whole once again. and his thoughts cost much more than a penny. But somehow have something tangible, real. The hope of forever gleams in my eye. Tonight, under the lights, your hand in mine, I look to your blue eyes and know it’s true. At twenty-one, life is not quite as fun, He washes the blood from his calloused hands It’s me and you. This love is forever. Bills, jobs, classes, take up time, but alas summertime is here again. I look over and kisses his son good night; Arguments, attitudes, and time apart, same street, same grey car, same blonde hair Is how we spend our time in November blowing. Perhaps he’d have been a better man You say our time is beginning to sour, Same smile, but just a little bit bigger. I say, “we clearly want different things.” Same boy, but not the same love as before. had they not sent him off to fight. Driving down hardy, staring out, looking It is stronger, it has grown. Together, tell my tears not to fall, they don’t listen. we have become who we now are today. But a hand reaches down to pull him from the mud; We have weathered sun, droughts, seasons, December is here, everyone’s all cheer, and storms. By his side stand his brothers in arms and in blood. but gloom lingers, wishing you were still here. We found our way, grew up, and grew in love. Now, we both see forever, together. December twenty-first, knock on my front door. “Can we try again, I miss you so much”,
30 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 31 Alice The Crossroads by Alayna Weathers by DeWanda Dawn Hutchinson
I am like Alice— One tortured, tormented soul Was filled with happiness and joy On every new page I meet Crying out from the deepened darkened pit That just could not be explained, A brave Queen of Hearts. That many enter, but few escape, The other, death and destruction ran the way, Faced with innumerable consequences But the right way seemed so hard Which way does she take? And the broad path looked so appealing, Each word that I read Oh, which way should she go? Tells me nothing other than One road is small and bumpy, “All ways are my ways.” Filled with twists and turns, If only someone could hear her cry, The terrain looks rough and very narrow, If only they could understand her pain, The other much broader and easier on the eyes, But, sadly, they all pass by Soul Screaming Rebecca Lauren Thompson All her desires ripe for the taking Without so much as a glance But which way does she choose? At this poor desperate soul In her sea of misery and despair Her mind tells her, “Go ahead...take the easy path, Pleading for just one to stop Quest Books It will be okay, many before have and many more And help her find her destiny. by Sara Wedgeworth by Dailynn Davis will,” But her heart tells her another story, She calls out but no one hears, Through the corridor I do not always understand my books, searching for the assigned seat; “Stick to the path, it may be tough, Her whole life flashes before her eyes Why do books bother to prove a point? But your reward will be eternal Life and death hang in the balance. the seat to my quest When I read I read to read for joy. With blessings to spare.” In a world full of sin and lies I do not read to read about who’s right. The right or the left Vanity takes the prize, I do not read to take a personal stance. Oh, which way to go, Hatred and deceit overwhelm She must make a decision fast In this all about me world. I read to get a glimpse of the writer, If she wants her soul to last. I want to wrap my mind around his words. No time to spare, I don’t always want to know his meaning. Her heart starts racing With life quickly slipping As her breathing becomes more shallow, Make your decision fast, I want to read the words and let them be. Hurry! For time is running out Now your time of reckoning, Why can’t my books ever make sense to me? And she must quickly choose. Accept or reject Your only two choices, The right path, though tough as it may be Welcome....to the crossroads.
32 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 33 Searching Ok ay by Julia Berry by Julia Berry Searching for answers but finding shapes and colors. Are you okay? Searching for answers but finding adventure and She covers it with a smile. mystery. What if the purpose is self-discovery? Are you okay? He hides it behind his work. Maybe that is the true victory.
She runs from her own fears by asking others Are you okay? Friend’s Gesture Questions Bethanie Wilson by Virginia Fennell He escapes his own insecurities by ignoring the question Any questions you may conjure, Are you okay?
Neglect the answers given; What if we were honest to a fault? Some will blindly seek Maybe we would experience true healing. Where others fail to see Everything is there, but hidden. Maybe the best prescription is saying Read between the words and phrases I am not okay So you’ll find the path within the mazes.
Paths by Gabrielle Hulin The straightest path is never fun, The only direction you can go is one! Adventures are much more interesting when paths divide. More paths offer a better ride, Invertebrate This way all riders can be satisfied Trinity Stewart Holoferne As one can then choose their destination. Bailey Adkins
34 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 35 Wealth Tree by Virginia Fennell by Raymond Smith I do not have I am Tree. a crumb to eat, I am rooted. a drop to taste, Beneath me are unseen stories and dreams that no one can believe shoes on my feet. except me.
Holding me upright, each time the wind blows left to right. A home on a hill, a dollar to spend Keeping me held high even when my leaves hang low. to buy a fence Keeping me from withering under the beam of the sun. and keep my belongings in. I am nourished.
Still Life Watered by the hand of the Gardener. I do not have Sydney D Myers Watered under the stars. a place to bathe, a bed for sleep, Fed the purest. a handed-down fortune I am selfless. I’ll one day reap. Producing shade for the hot despite my being in the heat.
Being a representative of what’s greater than me. But I have joy. Only point to He.
I have a song in my heart, I Am. a breath in my lungs, I am Tree. a thought in my head, and a sweater I, myself, spun.
You see, I do not need what others have to always wear a smile. Happiness is all around And finding it’s worthwhile.
Brush Creek Anna Henderson
36 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 37 But none of that mattered that New Year’s This particular hero was sitting in Section Eve. They were there to watch their much UB, Row 18, and either seat 19 or seat 20. beloved Crimson Tide play football. The The boy’s Dad. The boy idolized his Dad, short kid had cheered for the Tide for as & still does. Others who knew the Dad did long as he could remember, dating back and do too. at least 9 years. The Dad had cheered for This would be the only Alabama Crimson the Tide a lot longer. Neither had ever Tide football game the boy and his Dad attended the University, though the kid would attend together. would do so in a few years. In truth: the Just 11 months later, the Dad would die kid began cheering for the Tide mostly suddenly of a heart attack. And the kid’s because the Dad did so. In short order, his world went gray. In some significant ways, Dad’s fandom became his own. the kid’s world is still gray all these years They shared some heroes, one of which later. There are parts of his soul and psyche was head coach for the Tide. In fact, they that were wrecked and crushed by his got to meet and shake hands with Coach Dad’s passing that haven’t been restored. Bryant shortly after the game due to a Every kid—especially every boy—wants to family connection. Their official seats were be welcomed into manhood by his Daddy. Section UB, Row 18, seats 19 & 20. They When that doesn’t happen…when it can’t wound up sitting just beneath the press happen…when it will never happen…the box in an unsuccessful attempt to stay dry. world never quite seems to get fully back They watched a fantastic game between in order. two very good teams. In fact, Alabama But there are glimpses of that order and of had already been named the U.P.I. National a long-promised, long-awaited restoration. Champion; back then, the champions were 19 years after that Sugar Bowl game, the kid voted on before bowl games commenced. went to another bowl game in New Orleans Two Ticket Stubs The game went back and forth, as often with another man he deeply admired. happens on a wet and sloppy field. Coach Once again, Alabama was playing in a by Mike Madaris Bryant would say later that it was the best big game against a powerful foe. Once game he was ever part of, as a player or a again, it was the Sugar Bowl. The Alabama coach. Crimson Tide v. the Miami Hurricanes this It’s just two football ticket stubs. Specifically, two 47-year-old football The short kid would agree. But not because time. Though Miami had the Heisman- ticket stubs. of the game’s outcome. Notre Dame won, winning QB then, Alabama destroyed December 31, 1973. A rainy night in New Orleans, LA at the old Tulane 24-23, on a late field goal. Alabama had them, dominating in every phase of the Stadium. An epic showdown between two storied college teams downed a punt on Notre Dame’s one-yard game, winning a National Championship in coached by two legendary coaches. Notre Dame Fighting Irish v. line, but couldn’t keep them hemmed in. the process. Alabama Crimson Tide. #3 v. #1. Ara Parseghian v. Paul “Bear” Bryant. The Irish were able to run out the clock. But that’s not why this is near the top of There were future college coaches dressed out & playing in that game. So, why did this kid think this was the best the kid’s favorite-game-ever list. The kid There were also future NFL Hall of Famers playing. game he ever saw? Because there was was sitting next to his Father-in-law this And there was a short kid with a bad haircut up in the stands, sitting a hero of his in the house. Not Coach time. Thus, the kid’s tears were discrete— with his Dad. Also in their group were a couple of aunts and a cousin. Bryant, although he was a hero of the kid’s. but still very present—as he both treasured (All were wearing Crimson.) The boy wanted to wear his hair long like Not John Mitchell or John Hannah or John the moment with another of his heroes and his peers were doing. The Dad preferred high & tight. The compromise Croyle, though they were (& are) heroes of role models, and as he ached with longing was not a thing of beauty. the kid’s too. to rewind the clock back to the 1973 Sugar
38 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 39 Bowl one more time and shake a Crimson I remember, Dad. I still miss you hard and Words & White shaker alongside his Dad. often. Thanks for 15 years of absolutely by Darian McCord Recently, the kid and his beloved wife were going through some boxes, and fantastic Daddying! I’m a cheap knockoff I want to cover the world with my words he rediscovered a treasure. Two ticket of you in every regard, but your two If I had a pen to write on the earth stubs. “40th Annual Sugar Bowl Classic.” grandkids who grew up in my house are I’d put the thoughts of men like a tapestry “December 31st, 1973.” “Section UB, Row 18, Seat 19” & “Seat 20.” And the memories fantastic, despite their non-fantastic Dad. Words on earth like a masterpiece flooded back again. As they do every Like you, I married an amazing Bama coed. The ocean would be a violent epic over and over football season. And every December. The lines of waves crash on the shore like a tattooed shoulder A couple of months ago was the 46th Speaking of your grandkids, you’d be very Written on the water is all tragedies anniversary of my Dad’s passing. pleased to know that I’ve attended bowl Every awful thing that has infected me My hope is that 40 years from now, any games with your 3rd grandson in recent number of little boys will be hearing from The grass would be a fairytale springing from the ground years as we watched his alma mater play. their Dads about the Bowl game when With each young growth come up, a word to keep it down they sat next to their Dad and watched I can very easily picture you wearing Red Lined on all its blades is every fantasy their beloved Crimson Tide play. (Or their & Blue and cheering on your grandson’s beloved Notre Dame Fighting Irish or Ohio The thoughts of what I am and what I dream to be State Buckeyes, or whomever is their team Rebels for all but one game every Fall. The mountains would be a list as tall as it could be of choice.) (This particular grandson is named after Its unforgiving slopes are just a canvas to me Just as I’ve been remembering that game Scribed onto the mount are all the ones I love 47 years ago when my Dad & I sat there in you, by the way.) Section UB, Row 18, seats 19 & 20. The I love you, Dad. See you soon. Can’t wait! The names of every person that I am made of ticket stubs are just pieces of card stock Roll Tide! Thanks. Then I saw the desert, an endless notebook paper. The memories they evoke are rich More space than I imagined from everywhere I looked and amazing and priceless. Mike I took out my pen to write down everything I could think And I was shocked to find that it had no ink Then I realized why I could write not The barren desert holds everything I’ve forgot I woke up from my dream with the pen still in my hand And I begin to weep, for I was surrounded by bare land The world began anew with another day Leaving every cherished word I’ve written erased I cast away the pen and went to go outside But a ring from behind me made me change my mind The clock was ticking loud, blank as it could be And it looked just like a canvas to me Why write on the world? It changes all the time, Grate The clock looks like a canvas with the power to change a life. Allison Chestnut
40 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 41 Holy Name by Darian McCord
When the smiles turn into a worried frown And the wedding dress turns into a hospital gown There’s nothing you can do but you can’t let it be And you can’t stand so you’re on your knees
When the trembling hands begin to fold And the tired eyes finally close You’ve got no power but still want change And your stammering tongue starts to pray
“Oh Father which art in heaven How can it be I’ve forgotten That the Lord gives and He takes away Blessed be Your holy name”
There isn’t much I can do But there never really was I’ll finally give up control To a God that always loves And when the things the world has taken Are the ones I love the most I will put all my love In a God who is in control
Oh Father which art in heaven How can it be I’ve forgotten You are the God of mercy The only One who can restore me Chapel You’ve carried me through everything Clay Graves Even when I’m on my knees The Lord gives and He takes away Blessed be your holy name
42 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 43 Unfailing Love Vertigo by Rose Bruce by Chloe Wicker
As I ponder over a world of strife, I learned to speak love slowly I think of how we toil through life. I think of the loving, caring, and easy to please; This language came with my birth and those who criticize, condemn, and tease. Written, carved into my bones But no less difficult to translate For some it’s easier to look for fault, and overlook the lessons taught. No one teaches you We are to be kind one to another, Remembering lessons from Father and Mother How to walk to the edge of a cliff Look down the jagged face of it and Our lives should be reverent, happy, and free, Keep yourself from hurling downwards that’s why our Savior was nailed to the tree.
That’s why God sent us his son, I carry the grammar of love with me So, we all could live together as one.
These words come with my passion So, at night when I lay down to rest, That’s when I think of how much I’m blessed. Stamped, branded onto my tongue And thankful for our Savior above, But never to spill into the realm of sound For salvation he gave from a heart of love. No one can teach you Our Lord made the supreme sacrifice. How to walk up to edge of hurt He carried our cross, he paid our price. Look into eyes that do not love you and One day Gabriel will call us home, Keep yourself from drowning in them And everyone will know that I have gone.
Gone to a place that Jesus prepared, A place where love floats in the air. The trumpet will sound with a mighty blast, Praise God! I’m home, I’m home at last. Night Lines Koi Pond Deanna Roberts Deanna Roberts
44 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 45 UnMasked by Jennifer Scroggins One day we will look back at the mask we wore, And remember the lives of those who aren’t anymore. The price we paid in the struggle to survive, Always amazed of how small things create a greater divide. Future Even in through the pandemic the cries rose for equality, by Gabrielle Hulin And we found ways to clash about true meanings of liberty. What are you doing with your life? Xikrins Boy The cries for justice and the cries for peace, I don’t know. Leanna Grace Blakeslee As the world was swarmed by the silent beast. But aren’t you an adult? Healthcare workers met with a magnitude of distress, Legally. While holding the hands of strangers as they crossed over into eternal rest. And aren’t you in college? The world in turmoil struggling to bridge the divide, I am. When what was hidden by our mask was the glimpse of a smile. And you’re not an undecided major? But how do you find the strength to smile in the midst of isolation, No, I’m an English major. Where is the smile in the midst when diversity is seen as aggravation? Don’t you like your English classes? No one will listen and determined to be right, Sometimes. While the smile hidden and become a dim light. Well, what are you going to do with your degree when you finish? Once again we are faced with a mission to recover, I don’t know. In the midst of the beast who silently continues to hover. Do you want to teach? A true normalcy may never come, I don’t feel good enough to teach. But we will adjust to the beat of a new drum. Do you want to be a journalist? And as we all set into familiar and new respected places, I don’t like writing nonfiction. We must honor and remember those deeply cherished faces. Why can’t you just pick what you want to do already? Because I like lots of things, but since I’m not the best at anything, I don’t feel like I have the skill to do anything. Then why are you an English major? Because everyone else told me I’m good at it.
46 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 47 before sunset like a black armada out of light. My eyes narrowed as I watched her, the west, smothering the setting sun and for I was struck suddenly by the realization flooding the stale air with the welcome that she was not wearing shoes. Leaning aroma of petrichor. I had heard the thunder further toward the glass, I noted a second from my armchair, grumbling irritably like a shocking detail: the woman was dressed company of old men come to lament the in but a shift, a frail undergarment barely failings of the young. Like a soft voice in suited for wearing in the privacy of her my ear, it had bid me move my chair closer home, let alone wandering the streets at to the window, that I might wait and watch. night. I felt my face growing hot, and would I saw nothing in the street some several have turned away at once, had a stone floors below my chamber save for the dim beneath the woman’s foot not turned reflection of water running in little streams suddenly treacherous. I gasped along with between the paving stones. Weariness her as she fell, her lantern flung into the nagged at me as I spared a glance at the gutter where it died with a feeble hiss. clock on the mantlepiece, which declared I was still dressed from my day at work, the time to be several hours past when I and so had only to throw a cloak around ought to have gone to bed. My mind and my shoulders before hastening down the body declared rather the same notion, and stairways to the front door of my home. I 179 Skulls Alysen Matthews with a feeling of vague disappointment I left fear the sudden flooding of light into the my chair and made to fasten the shutters. street as I flung open the door must have I should have guessed such an action would frightened the poor woman, for at once her summon the woman. Even as my hands near-successful attempt to rise from the fumbled wearily with the latch, I saw her sodden ground failed, and she fell again coming down the street. I did not know why into a soaked and tangled heap. I hurried A Mask of Raindrops the sight of her so excited and intrigued me, to her, and offered my aid, uttering many for she looked the same as ever, a fair young inane apologies even as she muttered by Thomas Ford woman of perhaps twenty, tall and willowy, thanks which the rain would not permit me with dark hair spilling out of the hood that to hear. could not contain it. The paleness of her Lorna was her name, I learned, and it narrow face made her easy to spot even in sounded pretty to me. I offered my own As I watched the fat grey raindrops roll with sluggish indifference down watery darkness, an almost luminous pallor in return, and was glad to hear her speak the misted windowpane, my night-wearied thoughts wandered to the which, I confess, had made me consider it, if only in a hushed, embarrassed tone. woman, as they so often did when storm clouds swallowed moon and for one startling moment when first I had She had not been badly harmed by her stars. laid eyes on her that she might have been a stumble, I was glad to learn, though her I had seen her on numerous occasions through the selfsame window phantom. Her eyes were brighter still, and knees were bruised, and the palms of her through which I peered on that dismal evening, always at night, and appeared almost too large for her head, hands had been somewhat scraped. She always during a storm, reminding me of some fabled Nymph or Nereid though they were lovely and captivating, politely declined my offer of ointment and awoken from enchanted sleep by the music of rain and thunder. It was one bottle green and the other a startling bandages, saying she was in something of a fanciful notion, and I kept it to myself. Indeed, I kept all knowledge of electric blue. a hurry, which I gathered, given that she the woman to myself, and if any of my neighbors possessed knowledge She moved with haste over the slickened was steadily edging further down the road. of her, they, too, refrained from sharing it. cobblestones, clutching at her cloak with I offered to summon her a carriage and was I wondered if I would catch some glimpse of her that night, as conditions one hand while holding aloft with the other again declined. Just as I had begun to fear were prime for her appearing. The thunderheads had rolled in just a frail lantern that lit her path with milky my actions may have unnerved the woman
48 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 49 – who, after all, was alone with a stranger I saw that what I had mistaken for a shift Perhaps emboldened by the success of even tilting her head back now and then in the darkness – she smiled earnestly at was instead a threadbare dress so badly my presumptuousness thus far, my tongue to laugh, a sound much like a gentle wind me, spoke a few final words of thanks, and faded that its original color could not be made a request to join her on her mission playing among metal chimes. faded into the storm. guessed. I had been correct about her before my mind could tell it to hush. I asked her why she did not come into The storm unleashed the fullness of its being barefooted, though. Before I had fully overcome the shock of town more often, though I quickly wished fury in a single night. By morning, it was She apologetically explained that her answer, I found myself walking through I hadn’t. She grew somewhat reticent, and gone, leaving behind a hauntingly empty unbeknownst to her, her fall that night the rain with Lorna just ahead of me. She it was some time before she confessed sky. It was some time before I saw Lorna some weeks before had damaged her held my lantern high in the air, looking that she did not feel welcome there. The again. I took to glancing out of my upstairs lantern, which would no longer hold oil for even more ghostly than usual in its muted townspeople thought her strange, she window before bed each night, rain or any useful length of time. She had made light, and led the way at a quick pace, said, and usually only acknowledged her no rain, in the hopes that I might catch the unfortunate discovery just before often glancing over her shoulder as though either by laughing cruelly as she passed even some meager glimpse of her. I will starting down my street, which she called a to assure herself that I was still behind her. or pulling their children out of her way. admit, her falling in the rain had unnerved lucky thing, as it was the one street in town Streams of dirty water gurgled around our She was uncertain what she had done to me, and like a mother worrying over a where dwelled someone whose name she feet and rolled down our faces. Somehow, unnerve them, and seemed very sad about child away from home, I began to grow knew. Rather stupidly, I did not at first I did not much mind. it. I tried to think of some way to comfort concerned that some dreadful fate might realize she was referring to me, but when Conversation was difficult to maintain, her, but my thoughts were sluggish in her have befallen Lorna. I read the paper every I did, I beamed, and hurried off at once to as every word was dulled by the steady presence. morning, dreading to find some mention of fetch her one of my spare lanterns. drumming of rain and the guttural belches After a while, I realized we were no longer in a dark-haired cadaver being pulled from a When I returned, I found Lorna still of thunder. Eventually, though, I gleaned a part of town with which I was familiar. The flooded gutter. standing on the stoop. My face burning, from the fractals of what I could hear that shadowed buildings that flanked our path When at last I saw through my rain- I stammered an apology, realizing that, in Lorna lived in the countryside beyond the seemed utterly alien and menacing. These spattered window the lithe silhouette of my befuddlement, I had forgotten to invite city limits, alone, unless one were to count were not the tall, half-timbered homes and the woman again, I spoke aloud a prayer her to await me indoors. Lorna, though, her numerous pets, which Lorna evidently shops of my reputable neighborhood, but of thanks. I nearly flung open the window did not seem to mind the rain, and indeed, did. Day or night, she always came to be squat little dwellings with thatched rooves to shout my relief to Lorna, but wisely before I had begun to voice my contrition, with her mother during storms, though by and crude stone walls, likely dirt-floored refrained, knowing she might never again she had been humming merrily to herself. day, she said, she came by wagon, and via and windowless. I could not help but think chance the shadow of my house if she She thanked me for the offered lantern, a different route. She would not force her of them as cairns, and with growing dread thought me some raving lunatic. Instead, I promising to leave it on my doorstep the horses out into the darkness, which she half expected to see phantoms or draugr sunk contentedly into my armchair, where I next morning, and with another numbing claimed they feared, and so at night she rising from them with gelid eyes full of imagined once again what might compel a smile she turned to leave. She had not went on foot by a path that was longer, hungry malice. young woman to take to the streets in the taken half a dozen steps, however, before I but safer. Every word she spoke made her But they were just homes, and at any rate dead of night with storm clouds looming blurted out my curiosity about her purpose seem stranger and yet more wonderful to Lorna did not seem frightened of them. overhead. that night. me. She walked more quickly as the paved I was so preoccupied with dreamy thoughts I realized immediately the rudeness of We passed many respectable houses, and streets turned to mud paths, and paid no that for several minutes I allowed myself my action, and very nearly snapped the as we came to each one I hoped it would heed to the greedy mud that sucked at her to ignore the sound of knocking at my door shut after yet another apology. be our destination. Lorna, though, hardly feet and the hem of her threadbare cloak. It door. Perplexed, I hurried down the stairs, Once again, however, Lorna surprised me, gave them a glance, her mismatched eyes seemed to me that she was heading toward wondering with some concern whether giving a contemplative look followed by fixed ever forward, save when she turned a chapel, which was to me a comforting I oughtn’t have strapped on my rapier an answer. She was on her way to visit her to look at me. She asked about me, and I sight. I could not imagine horrors springing before leaving the bedchamber. Opening mother, she told me, who had always been answered her, though my answers seemed from a house of worship even on so foul a the door, I found neither thief nor prowler, terrified of storms. Lorna would sit with terribly dull in comparison to all she had night, especially with so fair a maiden near but Lorna, smiling sheepishly. Dark hair her, she said, until the foul weather had to say. Still, whether out of kindness or at hand. was plastered wetly to her pale face, and passed and clouds yielded to barren sky. pity, Lorna smiled and nodded politely, I asked Lorna how much further we would
50 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 51 need to go and was glad to hear her say we was not paying me the slightest attention. Answer were nearly at our destination. Squinting in She was staring straight ahead, where sat by Dailynn Davis the lanternlight, I searched the darkness a modest headstone marked with a set for some sign of a house, but saw only of dates and a name, plain but carefully Do you want an answer? Do you want the truth? the chapel, and the churchyard beyond. preserved. Tell me “yes” with all your heart. Or do you want it slant? Lightning framed the lofty steeple in a blue- Lorna was singing softly to the same tune white halo, and threw into momentary light she had been humming on my doorstep. It I’ll give you the best of my non-fiction, Emily Dickinson knew what people wanted, a multitude of rain-glazed headstones. no longer seemed to me a merry melody, Yet you tear my world apart. Yet fiction is still the base for our fans. Lorna, to my discomfort, led me toward but a lullaby meant for the ears of one who the churchyard’s wrought iron kissing gate, nevermore would rise from sleep. Please, Do you want an answer? over which she hopped with a practiced Dream now with me, and let the world fade You don’t want to know. You’ll say “yes with all ALL my heart.” step toward what I took to be a shortcut. Dream, dream now with me You say that you want me to give you “Well,” I’ll say with shock, Intensely alarmed at the prospect of Sit with me beneath the tree straddling graves in the dead of night, I There together we can dream truth unhinged, “Too bad, a straight answer isn’t in the nonetheless followed after her, keeping my Of the golden summer days Yet here we are reading fiction. fiction writer’s heart.” eyes fixed resolutely on the lantern in her When our lives were calm and free hand. I hugged the folds of my oiled cloak Dream, dream now with me . . .You don’t really want to know. tightly around myself, feeling a sudden Dream with me a little while terrible chill that had little to do with the Of walking through the garden damp night air. When the world seemed bright and new It had been ingrained in my as a youth that Safe and sound on childhood’s isle to step on a grave is disrespectful, and Dream, dream now with me thus I did my best to walk the narrow paths Dream now with me, and let the world fade between the headstones. This slowed my progress somewhat, but Lorna, I was I will forever be ashamed of how long it Count and Do Not Rhyme pleased to find, appeared to be waiting for took me to comprehend the obvious. With by Robert Cox me some distance ahead, holding high her so much rain glossing her porcelain cheeks, I sit behind an old and tattered desk, borrowed lantern as a sign for me to follow. it was difficult to tell if Lorna was crying, Attempting to achieve a bit of rest. I was embarrassed to find Lorna sitting and I, of course, never asked, though I on a small granite bench when at last I believed, and believe still, that she was. Over-thinking each and every line, caught up with her. Had I truly been so People cannot cast off pain like sodden Making sure I surely do not rhyme. slow that she had tired while awaiting me? garments or muddied shoes, but they can I know these words are sounding kind of close, I tried to explain the desire for respect mask their tears with raindrops, and sit with They don’t rhyme so I think it’s fine… I hope. that had impeded my pace, but ended my those who will not leave them when the sky elucidation abruptly when I realized Lorna is dark. Syllables are easier I have found, I look back over the lines and I count. I just checked lines three and four both have nine, It’s too late now I’ll leave them, yeah, it’s fine. Oops… I rhymed.
Mom’s Plant, Dad’s Clock Jody Pierce
52 The INDIGO 2021 The INDIGO 2021 53 Life’s Replacement Rebecca Lauren Thompson