The Catholic High School of Baltimore Canticles 2015 Cover Art by Mallory Olivier, ’18
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The Catholic High School of Baltimore Canticles 2015 Cover Art by Mallory Olivier, ’18 To The Reader All images in this collection are either in the public domain or have been submitted by students. Chapter Selections are divided by author. The table of contents can be accessed by clicking the table of contents button in your iBooks reader: You can also access the table of contents with a two-finger pinch on your screen or track pad. This collection is designed to be viewed on iPads in the portrait orientation. i 1 Joanna Kouloheras ’18 Poetry Untitled Ally Lanasa ’16 I Heard... I heard a voice, strong and determined, as her lips moved. I heard words, that echoed in my ear with a familiar ring. I heard words, foreign to my tongue. I heard a voice triumphant and unwavering. I heard words of self-confidence and love. I heard words, articulated as clear as a flowering thought. I heard a voice as I looked into the mirror, a voice all my own. Karl Bryullov– Young Russian Girl 3 Finite Time, Infinite Dreams My eyes are open, but I am dreaming. I am awake, but drifting into the world of what will be. I remain in the same physical state, but mentally I am racing the clock. I run after it, the sensation in my heart extending to my legs. I watch the hand move rapidly from seconds to minutes. Tick-ambition roars within me. Tock-abruptly, I am brought back to reality. My heart rages with a burning passion. The dream-I cannot let it go. It slowly slips through my fingers like the sand in an hourglass. I reach for a pen and paper before it’s gone forever. I write in fury. Tick-I challenge the limitation of time. Tock-I pursue my Great Perhaps. I seize it. I take a deep breath and laugh slightly. Oh, time, so fatuous for believing I would idle. Philippe de Champaigne Still-Life with a Skull, 1671 4 Untitled The greatest defeat is losing oneself by succumbing to society's perceptions. Authenticity is obliterated by the desire for supposed perfection. The steady relegation to self-destructive individuality Occurs as one embarks on a path away from originality. The soul is hidden beyond the darkness of social acceptance. Anguish thrives in the soul as one is burdened by expectance. The most dangerous of words are those never said. For one's greatest critic is the voice inside the head- The voice, whose power has been redirected To produce the thoughts that leave one dejected. For the delusions of conformity also sour the soul, A wish for normality fuels overbearing self-control. What once were whispers are now echoing screams "You'll never be good enough. No, it seems." To gaze at one's own reflection arises disgust and denial Of the beauty that rests within that crooked smile. Yes, loving oneself can be a treacherous war- Succumbing to accepting every blemish, every scar. Desperate bellows stifle trembling whispers of regret. Upon the gaze of oneself, one mutters, "Forgive, not forget." These hardships struggled, this division of mind, Bisected now, but unison one shall find. The mind and heart content in accord The love of self eventually restored. 5 Sarah Mason ’18 The Day of Remembrance It's still clear as a bell in my mind or chocolate chip cookies, The day I went to my grandmother's viewing, or the sweet scent of her perfume I smelled a week after the worst day of my life, when her arms wrapped around me. February 26, And now it was gone. The day my grandmother died unexpectedly So I enter the room, at 11:46 in the morning. but the first thing I see My mother said I didn't have to look at the casket in the classroom-sized room if I didn't want to, is my grandmother which led me to believe it would be a large room, in a pure white casket maybe like a church with blue inner fabric with a large ceiling with a picture of two seagulls, and wide walls, and embroidered in black words was but it was incorrect, "flying home." because the room was no bigger than a classroom. And inside lay my grandmother, I did not want to see my grandmother, in her favorite blue blouse, it would be too much for my ten year old emotions looking almost asleep. to take, That moment is forever burned in my mind. especially since she was the one that really pam- pered me. She gave me porcelain fairies with delicate sparkly wings, she let me put earrings in her ears pair after pair after pair. When my ears were not pierced. After yearning for so long, I was finally the girl she had wanted. She only had brothers, and when she had kids only sons. I was her only girl, and she would bake me sweets, the delicious aromas of a fresh baked pumpkin pie, 6 Shannon Czapla ’16 Moon Galileo's sketch of the moon from Sidereus Nuncius Everything is weightless. Fears, wants, dreams are all lifted. No longer effervescent problems. Gone. Vanished into the crisp air of the moonlit sky. What does it feel like to feel nothing? When your thoughts are no longer tied down by the gravity that holds them to your life-filled body. Do fears tie us down and hold us back, or do those destructive feelings make us feel alive? Without the gravity of our thoughts, we loose consciousness. Overcoming darkness is our reason for surviving, proof of our humanity. As the weightless moon beneath my feet illuminated the space around me, I lost myself. Secrets The mind is vast and ominous, Capable of holding what seems like an unlimited amount of secrets. What is our mind? Unopened doors waiting for us to explore. A never ending hallway of dark thoughts and repressed memories. The hallway leads the way to truth, knowledge the only destination. If given the option to know the truth even if it would only hurt you, Would you still choose to listen? Would you still search for answers to questions that never should have been asked? Is it possible to get lost in your own mind? Will the truth you find when unlocking doors cause you to lose the key to escape? Some doors are locked for a reason, But curiosity always kills the cat. 7 Survive Night is falling and I must hunt. I sense a presence, a human. They are watching me. Why do they do so? The water is brisk. Fish are swimming all around me. If I swim across the river I can escape. Night is falling and I am running out of time. I swim fiercely through the water. It glistens in the oncoming moonlight. My body shatters the peace of the water as they shatter the peace of the air. Why do they hunt me? I have done nothing to hurt them. They chase and stalk me until they are ready to kill. They are vicious, merciless when I do not consider them prey. They are cruel animals, but they won't get to me. I am determined I am a survivor I am a tiger 19th-century painting of a tiger by Kuni- yoshi Utagawa 8 Homeless Where do you go when you have no destination? What do you say when no one knows your name? I shouldn't have tried playing such a dangerous game. What's the point of living, when no one knows your name? What's the point of begging, when people only say, "Oh what a shame." People run past, busy with their lives. All I want is just a second of their time. I want them to know me, to remember my name. I want them to stop to say, "Have a nice day!" Those of us without a place to be are worthless you see. For we do not "fit in" with the rest of this cruel society. Fears I hear them in the distance as I wallow in fear. I run and I hide, I pretend not to hear. Some call me mad, but they just don't understand. No one stops to listen, no one lends a hand. They scream at me to turn around, to turn around and see. To see all of the horrors that have always been chasing me. Once I get the courage to look behind and see, I always look to see my own thoughts staring back at me. 9 Nightmare There was an alley, dimly lit with an ominous tone. I search for them, but they cannot be found. Where did he go? I turn the corner and see shadows. Hear footsteps. The others are coming. Where do I go? Should I turn around to see who is chasing me? Once I see their faces, they will capture me. Enveloped in their horror, I will fall. I run, breathless. They call my name. Screams. I hear the screams of the lost. They are taunting me. I am all that is left now. I must survive, for the lost ones. The ocean is approaching. If I jump, I can escape. I dive into the cool water below and I am free. 10 Kayla Dubose ’16 Nightlife A dark sky so black it buzzes to life. The sun of the day has lain down to rest. Each snore carries no glory or wife. During the hour the heart beats its best. The owl hoots and the bat’s wings flutter.