SPARK 2010 Volume 2 Sparked by Inspiration

A REVIEW OF NSCC STUDENT LITERARY & ARTISTIC EXPRESSION

SPARK 2010 volume 2 sparked by inspiration

Through poetry and stories, photographs and drawings, Spark showcases the talent and spirit of students at North Shore Community College. This second issue of Spark is dedicated to the persistence of vision, forward movement, and the knowledge that creativity is its own reward. Enjoy.

on the cover: Gibson by Jake Bartolomeo, NSCC student opposite page: The Golden Box by Hillary Scott, NSCC student spark on the inside

1. SPARK 2010 volume 2 My Deity My Window by Christina Siebertz by Deb Scarfo

I wonder where I’m going Days seen through muted windows At every second of every day; Deceiving the eye to see Walking around aimlessly My dream’s enticing delusion With an invisible blindfold, Through ambiguous transparency Chasing a dream I think is real, Trying to live up to Clouded from despairing breaths Ambivalence scratching its surface Expectations, Of the perpetual devious mask Either those of my own From my life’s unconscious mess Or someone else’s, I haven’t figured it out yet. Do I dare attempt to raise open Chasing people of my future A window a crack at least Or people I only hope In hopes of glimpsing my desperate dream To be my future. And finally be released Like wishing stars they are, So large and close at night; Or do I scream wildly, pounding and punching Non-existent during the day. Until the glass shatters dangerously Working, writing, thinking, Blinding my visions of escaping organizing The malevolent misery For a better tomorrow. Consistently forgetting about Fighting to uncover the fearlessness Forever kept remotely at bay The todays and yesterdays. Permeating my every movement Losing joy for the moment Behind the muted windows of my days Incessantly pushing forward For my prize, His eyes, My dream, Something that is what it seems. Losing hope because I’m losing hope Needing perfect fulfillment Not in human form. A deity. My deity. Struggling for something unearthly.

2. SPARK 2010 volume 2 Fictitious Walls Painted On by Kayla Sweet by Kayla Sweet

Your fictitious walls, they will A painted on smile, not break, An echoing laugh, You’ve built them “unreal”, A trail of old secrets, for your own sake, And a deceiving old path, The protection you’ve A welcoming garden, created, all on your own, Which hides wretched weeds, Prevents you from ever, being If you’re trying to grow, alone. Stop planting dead seeds, Disguising yourself, is all that Your mask will not cover, you know, But smother instead, It’s a desperate attempt, to A lie is a lie, never let go, No matter why it was said. Can’t you see that you’re empty? Is it something you can’t face? Don’t you see that you’re not Not Like I Used To | Martha Avril Duncan searching, in the right place? You’re reaching far out, for something that’s not there, You are driven by anger, and compelled by fear, If you submit to faith, and let yourself see, Maybe you’ll realize , what it means to be free.

3. SPARK 2010 volume 2 Husband by Florence Urban

I don’t remember a time when I father with another man, but you you, and how proud I am to say didn’t want you, you have always do, and there are tears in my heart I married my dream. I know I been the man that makes my for you anytime you’ve been hurt make you mad sometimes, when I heart leap out of my chest. I love because of that. The kids depend spend money you meant to save or everything about you, the way you on you to add structure in their when my tongue whips you into look dressed and undressed, your lives, and you do that. When they submission. I need you to know calm stride and the wonderful way are hurt or hungry or happy you you are the hero in this story and your mouth curves into a smile. smile, cry and laugh with them there is no place I’d rather be then I love the hunger in your touch and we love you for that too. watching you breath. You are my and the flickers of red bursting Sometimes I watch you sleep, you husband and I intend on spending inside the green in your eyes. You are so peaceful and quiet your my life with you. When we get old are my Irish knuckle head, you mind is at rest and I can’t help and all the kids are gone and we won’t let them play games with myself, I kiss you all over your can stroll around the house naked you or question the power of your face until you growl and swat scaring the neighbors, know this thoughts and I more than love me away. I put my head on your my love, I’d do it all over again, you for that. I know it’s hard for chest and listen to your heartbeat, every little bit just to be right here you to share the duty of being a you don’t know how much I love next to you.

Canyon by Kayla Sweet

There is so much of you, That I cannot reach.

The depth of you, There’s a center of you, Leaves me without speech. I believe it’s worth finding.

There’s things inside, But in the end, I’m left to see, That I’ll never touch. That this exploration, is not up to me,

But it doesn’t mean, I cannot seek, what you don’t want sought, I can’t love you as much. And I cannot think what you don’t want thought.

There’s a cave to you, Instead I’m left peering, too close to the edge, Is it dark and blinding, Yet not close enough to climb down from this ledge.

4. SPARK 2010 volume 2 Windswept | Jenna Aiello

Another Race by Christina Siebertz

How I wish the sea Would envelope me. Freely floating And my demons In no form On a desert; Feeling the true essence Under water as a mermaid; Of nature and its intentions. In a tall tree How I do love silence, On a tropical night; In its brisk way, To subdue and nurture I wade Even the wildest of beasts, To and fro Even myself, Searching for meaning As I struggle to In life Defeat myself As a secondary race.

5. SPARK 2010 volume 2 The Woman in the Distance by Nelson Baker

I noticed her when I stood There were times when I loved water. Just after midnight, with up after retying my left shoe. to love her, and other times, all the sound of the waves splashing It was a surprise that I would I could do was cry. It is difficult against the tide, life was born. never have envisioned in my to comprehend the idea that It was meant to be. This most mind. Standing there across someone like her can be taken perfect night, with the hope of a the street, holding a newspaper from you. Life has its ways and long and wonderful life together, over her head to block the rain sometimes, they override love. To and I had nothing to regret. from soaking her beautiful face, think that I would not be able to What was stopping me from she stood apart from the rest of spend the rest of my life with her walking up to her? Soon, a taxi the world. This thing that she was my only weakness. would pull alongside the curb, possessed, that which made her The night before we were and take her away forever. I did shimmer even under the grayish married, I brought her to the not know where she lived. Nor clouds, was what I adored about ocean. After walking up and did I have any inclination as her most. I could barely move, as down the shoreline, hands to if I was even welcome in her my memories of her began to find clasped, we finally sat down in life. My heart was pulsating as I their way back to me. She struck the sand. It was a cool night, was aware that this may be the me with something that was and I saw that slight inadequacy last time I would ever see her, impossible to describe, pulling in her that I will always love. and then I would never forgive me in without her even knowing I With my arm around her, we myself. was there with her. looked beyond the shore, into I felt as if I had only one shot It was apparent that this the distance behind the water’s at this. This was probably my lady with her long, voluptuous, edge. It was then that I reminded reasoning for such hesitation. I auburn colored hair was awaiting myself that I was the luckiest man was afraid of being rejected by the arrival of a taxi. Raising her in the world. her. I was afraid of what it would arm into the air to flag one down, I told her I loved her that do to me. Even though I knew she smiled as she was not yet night. It wasn’t the first time, but it would feel much worse if I successful. I sensed in her a hint it felt different. I was in a land did nothing at all, I remained of inadequacy as she lowered her of my own creation. Somehow, still, except for my eyes, and my arm back down. Just a hint. Just my life with her was going just thoughts. enough to impress onto her that the way I had wanted. We were A few years after we were soft, sweet amenity. Leaning into beginning a new life now, and married, something happened the passing vehicles, she looked I wanted with all my heart to that I will always remember. My further down the street in search make her happy. I wasn’t perfect, wife and I had been walking on a of any oncoming taxis. but maybe our future could be. trail deep in the woods. The sun Finding myself frozen, unable Perfect in our eyes. was shining bright through the to find the courage to go to her, On the eve of the day that trees, and we veered off course I became lost in the memories of would bring us into courtship, to see it. As we came up to the our once perfect life together. I made love to my fiancé by the edge of a rocky gorge, we saw a

6. SPARK 2010 volume 2 view that was breathtaking. It was and fortitude. If I had hesitated like we had traveled to a place not for even a second, she could have “On the eve of this Earth. The sky shined its died. light beyond the cliffs, creating There was no doubt that she of the day sunny trails that looked like they was still alive. I was looking right extended out into infinity. It was at her. Though there were people that would peaceful in a radiating way, and everywhere, and an immense being here together brought even compilation of traffic, my focus more depth to the love that we was on this lady, with her magnetic bring us into shared for each other. abilities. Astounded by what she was Waving to a taxi that was courtship, I seeing, my wife stumbled. Losing gradually approaching, she looked her balance, both of her feet relieved as the driver replied with a made love to slipped out from under her as she wave of his own. He was not more slid toward the edge. My heart than five or six vehicles from her, sank as she cried out to me, and and even though the light had just my fiancé by I knew that she would fall to her turned red, I knew that time was death if I did not save her in time. running out for me. the water.” With only a split second The rain had changed into a to react, I dropped flat on my mist, and peaks of the sun were I will always look back on with stomach as close to her as possible, straining to emerge from the my own indescribable elation. grabbing hold of her with both of clouds above. I felt as if something He always brought moments my hands, underneath her arms. out there was providing for me a to my life that were joyous and This halted her descent, while small sense of encouragement in memorable. giving me a strong base in my lighting up the skies. Something We were a family once. positioning on the ground. In an was urging me to make my move. Parents to two young boys who instant reaction, she reached back I looked up to the sky, watching as we introduced to the world, and for me, giving me the chance to the clouds began to break apart. everything in it. She was a kind, take hold of her hands. Luckily, In my appreciation for such an gentle mother who had a natural this did the job. If I had tried to unpredictable and beautiful world, way with children. They loved grab her without dropping to the I remembered the time in the park her more than candy, which for ground, I would have been off when I pointed my finger toward a child, is a compliment of the balance. And since we were so the sky, showing my son a passing highest regard. close to the edge, maybe both of airplane. He was only six then, The light turned green, and us would have gone over. and planes were more exciting to traffic was again in motion. It was I reacted in a way that I him than anything he had ever either now or never. After taking always hoped I would - without seen. The smile that came over a deep breath and nodding my hesitation, using speed, accuracy, his face, the happiness in his eyes, head, I started toward her, without more, page 8

7. SPARK 2010 volume 2 “I wiped the tears from my hit. Maybe then I could have face, and fighting the pain prevented this from happening. There was another crash, and I within my back, sat up to greet remember feeling excruciating pain in my back, but only for a her face to face.” second or two. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on a rocking bench, on continued from page 7 a large, slightly dusty porch, looking back. I could see the taxi had opened for her. As he hit the beside my beautiful wife. It was driver through the passenger side gas, he sped off, and the door our home, the one we lived in for window, as he pulled up beside shut on its own. most of our life. We were rocking her with a lustful smile on his As the taxi departed, it left back and forth ever so gently, face. I knew all I had to do was an opening, one large enough enjoying the view of a lake. We call out to her, and she would for another vehicle, such as a had aged gracefully, and I was hear me. I was close enough to truck. She was still standing still very much in love with her. her now. I actually opened my there, unaware as to why the This was our time of relaxation, mouth, but before I could speak, driver left so quickly. All she did early Sunday morning when the someone’s horn abruptly beeped. was insert a hair clip, as her arms spring air was just right. I sighed, and as I was about to were blocking her face for just Sitting there, I looked back on try for a second time, I noticed a few seconds, and then he was a long and happy life. I thought a pickup truck traveling at a gone. She put her hands on her of the greatest moments in my speed that was much too fast. I hips, and that look of inadequacy life. The ones that touched me was now on her side of the street, spread over her face as she the most. These moments are walking toward her, watching the watched the taxi speed away. I the ones that I hold in my heart oncoming truck. It had not yet wanted to touch her face just forever. Some of them, I can see slowed to a safe rate of speed. once in that moment, but I knew happening just a little different The woman ran her hands it wasn’t going to happen. than they actually did, but there’s through her damp, but still “Watch out for the truck!” I nothing wrong with adding a flowing hair, as the taxi driver yelled, running to her. But I was few things to your memories opened the door for her. I not in time. I was just a few feet that could give you that much began to run toward them, as away from her when the truck more happiness. Remembering I was concerned that danger slammed into her. something with a little extra was imminent. The driver saw “No!” I cried. fondness than you once felt. It me, and his smile changed to a She was thrown several feet doesn’t hurt anyone. look of confusion and fear. He and finally hit the side of a The way we see things in then noticed the truck, and in building that was nearby. I could our life is what makes it a good seconds, had darted back around not believe what I was seeing. If one. Whether thinking of the his cab and into the driver’s seat. I had only gone to her sooner, past, present or future, having a He didn’t even shut the door he maybe she would not have been hopeful mind and a loving heart

8. SPARK 2010 volume 2 can lead your dreams into reality. And there is nothing wrong with that. I opened my eyes, and I could Unique Flowers | Karen Spear tell immediately that I was in a hospital. I tried to remember how I got here, and then tears began to stream down my face. Why did I wait so long? I thought to myself. This all could have been avoided and I knew it. “Are you okay?” asked someone from the room. I lifted my head and saw the only one I did not expect to see. She was sitting up in her bed, with a few bruises on her face, a bandage on her forearm, and a book in her hand. She put a bookmark on the page that she was reading and set the book down on the table beside her bed. I wiped the tears from my face, and fighting the pain within my back, sat up to greet her face to face. “My name is Wendy and I think I owe you a thank you, don’t I? What is your name?” I smiled at her, and as I started to tell her my name, I began to think of the moments that meant so much to me over the years.

9. SPARK 2010 volume 2 Climbing the Ladder by Jessica Toomey

My whole life I have let my fears getting colder and angrier by the I was on a deserted island watching get in the way of doing things I’ve minute. Like the beach at home, my rescue ship sailing away. With always wanted to do. My fears are there were so many people at the the angry wind pushing me around a “No Trespassing” sign blocking park. Smiling faces in autumn, like a high school bully pushing my way, and that I’m always afraid laughing, joking, spending time a kid when he’s down, I almost to cross. My first time going to Rye with friends and family, the scenery lost my balance. The air seemed to Harbor State Park was the day I seemed to bring warmth to my face. feel like knives hitting me all over. walked past that “No Trespassing” The park didn’t seem any Looking back I couldn’t see Nick or sign and overcame my fear of different from any other park. There Karen or anyone for that matter. All heights. were trees, pink flowers, benches, I could envision in my terrified state Driving past Hampton Beach picnic tables, but there was one of mind was falling to my death and into Rye Beach, I felt like I was in thing that made this park different my blood staining the rocks. another part of the world. A world from others I had visited before. Eric was at the finish line that was kept secret from me for 19 There in the water were at least four coming in first and I was in second. years. Looking out the window, the different paths leading out to what Looking back upon our race to picture seemed to be so unreal. To seemed to be life guard posts. The almost death, I slowly turned my right the water was a deep blue, paths were made out of the biggest around and looked up in fear. My but looked like white diamonds rocks I had ever seen. From where smile of completing what seemed to due to the sun shimmering so we were standing the post seemed be a playful race wasn’t over yet. I gently over the waves. Looking not far away. shivered as I looked up at the once to my left all I saw was one house “When we used to come here, so small post to now the terror of after another that resembled what years ago, Nick and I used to climb doom. ought to be a five star hotel. I felt those rocks,” Nana Karen said in “We made it this far, let’s go up uncomfortable looking at all these her sweet tone that always made on the ladder,” Eric said as my heart empty mansions, but I also felt at me feel comfortable. Looking up fell through my chest. Not wanting home with the blinding blue water at Eric’s playful eyes, he looked to move, I inched towards the making my eyes squint and the at me and asked “Do you want to ladder. I decided to go first so that smell of the salt air. climb them?” Doing what I do best if I fell, Eric could carry me back to As Nanu pointed to the wooden I responded before I had time to shore better then I could ever carry sign that read “Rye Harbor State think and blurted out “Yes.” him. The ladder was roughly 10 ft. Park,” Nana Karen took a slight Running in unison to the first big tall and was made of metal and was right into the park. While Nana gray boulder of a rock, we leaped screwed to the ground. found a space close to the water and onto our starting line. As I took one I grabbed the sides of the ladder parked her car, Eric kissed me on step after the other, I realized we for dear life, still shaking and my cheek and smiled. He knew how were already halfway between the freezing, I didn’t look down. Each much I loved his grandparents and path. I looked beside me thinking step felt like a lifetime. My hands that I was having fun. that Eric was there, and to my were freezing and turning a pale Walking towards the water, I surprise he was at least 15 ft. ahead white. Placing both feet on the floor felt at ease, like I was home. That of me. of the post, I stood there in silence familiar breeze hit my face and was I started to panic. I felt as though for I was 15 feet off the ground and

10. SPARK 2010 volume 2 clockwise Eagle | Warlley Coelho Black & White Portrait | Olesea Fiodorova Neon Neutral Geometry | Mandi Marcotte

in the middle of the water. Soon enough Eric was by my side. His eyes never looked so blue and scared at the same time. I touched his hand and he was shaking, but not from the cold. “We should leave now, I’m pretty scared,” he said as he was heading down the ladder. “Wait, let me enjoy this,” I said to him with a smile. I looked all around me to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. I couldn’t believe I did that. I walked over sharp boulders in the middle of the ocean and up a ladder that was mounted to a rock. I was so surprised and shocked at doing what I did. We headed back to our starting point. I looked back and smiled. I smiled at the fact that I didn’t let myself down and conquered my fear of heights. 12. SPARK 2010 volume 2 clockwise, page 12 Benjamin Brooks | Martha Avril Duncan Brick and Steel | Mandi Marcotte Brotherly Kiss | Olesea Fiodorova

clockwise, page 13 Stiles Pond | Hillary Scott Berries | Olesea Fiodorova Shoes | Warlley Coelho

13. SPARK 2010 volume 2 Two Wheeling Tinkerbell by Tanya Green

Pedals flew like wings Approaching Whipper Willow Lane full Soaring on her own little rainbow speed ahead Nothing Tinkerbell about her Pan!!!!!!!!! 100% tomboy Crashing without a sound On an endless rainbow flight Tink’s feet desperately pounding pavement So she thought Peter’s body shaking uncontrollably Until that September day Blood spurting out from all directions Peter Pan up front Tink’s tears couldn’t save him Tink closing in Lost boys looked on in horror Lost boys lagging behind Rainbow crushed Speeding around curves Wings shattered Tirelessly up Washington Mountain Rd. Peter Pan dead Faster than ever down Sleepy Hollow Path

The Peddler’s Daughter | Hillary Scott The Jump by Shannon Horgan

A girl makes her way up an old worn path, before she even realizes it. She knows that the weaving through trees and rocks. Making past is behind her but she is aware that it makes sure to avoid stray sticks and pieces of rock her who she is. For a while she was cautious, jutting out from the soil, she gets closer and until a boy made her forget to be. closer to her destination. Sunlight streams in The girl stops reminiscing and takes a few steps through gaps in the trees and dances through back. She sheds her sandals, along with any the woods. She struggles up a steep incline regrets. She has one last second to reconsider and is rewarded by reaching the top of the hill. but ignores it and makes a run for the cliff. The girl stops to catch her breath and takes in An adrenaline rush follows as her jump slowly her surroundings. The woods are to her back comes to an end and she is swallowed up by and a clearing that ends in a cliff is straight the waves. The time she spent in the air seemed ahead. A soft breeze ruffles some leaves and like much longer than the actual seconds that combs through her dark waves of hair. She went by before she hit the ocean. Her fall looks up and the sun fully beams down on her represented her reckless jump towards love and now, warming her already sun-kissed face. She surviving. Just like the water broke her fall, so confidently walks over to the cliff’s edge in did a boy. She only felt more alive when they long strides. Her warm brown eyes observe the were together than when she hit the water. Love waves crashing up against the rocks directly can look a lot like menacing waves but once below. She takes a step back and reminds you jump, love is the most intense feeling that herself why she is there. The girl allows her is possible to feel in this world. The girl takes mind to flash back through the memories and a a deep breath after reaching the surface and few stand out in particular, as they should. The starts the trek back to shore. Progressing up the first time she fell in love, the first time her heart sandy beach, she wore soaked clothes, a smile was broken, the friendships made and lost, and on her face, and for once her heart was as free the spring when a new beginning blossomed as her toes. from the concrete. A smile sneaks onto her face

15. SPARK 2010 volume 2 clockwise, page 16 Help Trees | Olesea Fiodorova Fruit | Joanne Graham-Troy Paris Carousel | Joanne Graham-Troy

clockwise, page 17 Sad Portrait | Olesea Fiodorova Thomas Edited | Jake Bartolomeo A Marine’s Arrival | Victoria Nickerson

16. SPARK 2010 volume 2 17. SPARK 2010 volume 2 clockwise Callum | Hillary Scott Crucifixion Fin |Martha Avril Duncan Nostalgia on the Wind | Olesea Fiodorova

page 19 Autoportrait | Olesea Fiodorova

18. SPARK 2010 volume 2 In That Moment I found an Angel by Amanda Frost

I remember running along the beach with you From every storm that’s ever came It was mid-September Every threat and every rain We were young and naive Every tear shed by my fears And because of you, I was free You’ve been here Like a butterfly in the sky I had so many things to reach God sent an angel With wings to shelter me When the sun started to set A heart to love me You said it was getting dark out And a soul to guide me And that we had to leave I said I didn’t want to sleep Rain or shine You said “That’s okay with me” You’ll be my guiding light We drove through the entire deserted town A guardian angel There was no one around To cherish me all my life In that moment I realized You were mine that night

And I don’t know why I don’t know how But we ended up here somehow Just you and me Chasing our dreams Throughout the seasons Hand in hand You took me into your arms In that moment I found You were my safest place to hide

19. SPARK 2010 volume 2 Finding Myself by Deb Scarfo

“What do you want from me? I don’t have any while raising an 8-year-old son and 4-year-old daugh- money, if that’s what you’re after,” she furiously ter, my birth sister, Sue, who unbeknownst to me, I declared. Those were my birth mother’s first words would meet in less than 48 hours! to me. After all the years of gathering the courage My mind swirling with this newfound knowledge, to search, I was devastated to hear her thoughtless, I raced home, immediately picked up the phone for hurtful remark. I had somehow always known of directory assistance, and in a few fleeting minutes this inevitable moment, unconsciously aware I would I had my birth father’s phone number! When I find her one day. excitedly called my husband and parents, the day’s I was two months old when I was adopted. I can’t events tumbling from my mouth, they swiftly tried recall the exact time or place when my parents first to dash my enthusiasm, “Slow down, Deb! Why are told me. It was something that was always a part of you moving so fast? Don’t be so impulsive!” But me, similar to knowing I had dark hair and hazel how could they comprehend that I was on a moving eyes. As a child I would often hear from my mother walkway that was impossible to stop, any physical or father, “You were adopted Debbie, and that’s steps on my part no longer necessary. very special, because we were able to choose you.” Without hesitation I made the call and surprising- But even as a little girl, I was never quite certain of ly ended up speaking with Claire, the kind, loving that assumption, and by the time I was a teenager, I stepmother of my birth sister. Claire, I learned, was didn’t want to be considered “special” anymore. I the wife of Chandler, Dorothy’s ex-husband, and longed to be like my friends who took for granted he was not my birth father as the adoption papers their siblings and parents resembling them, sharing stated. “You have a sister named Sue, who is dying the same expressions and mannerisms, an endless to meet you!” Claire exclaimed. family history. I was desperate to belong in a “real” The next morning, Sue and I spoke on the phone family. To be secure in knowing I inherited my for hours, both of us overwhelmed with emotion mother’s blue eyes or my father’s long nose. My ad- at hearing the other’s voice for the first time. She opted mother and I were contrasts in every way and I confessed that she experienced an incredibly un- endlessly craved a mother who could understand and happy and unloving childhood being brought up accept me. Childishly, I repeatedly told myself, “If by Dorothy, a cold manipulative narcissist, and she was my real mother, she would truly love me for her father, Chandler, an alcoholic and drug addict. who I am.” Dorothy and Sue had been estranged off and on for As the years passed, I became more obsessed with most of her adult life. “Be grateful you were put up finding my birth mother, and at 26 years old, I went for adoption, Deb,” Sue told me with tears in her to court and obtained my adoption records that were voice. We agreed to meet for lunch the next day, but legally sealed. As I walked out of the courtroom, never stepped foot inside the restaurant, instead sit- my hands shook holding the file that contained my ting in the car talking non-stop for hours until dusk life’s beginning, and the end of not knowing who I fell around us, surprising us back to reality. We were was. I impatiently tore open the file, my birth father compelled to share every minute of our separated and mother’s name staring up at me from the pages. childhood and immediately bonded as if we grew up Her name was Dorothy Rau. She had been going together and were not meeting for the first time as through a divorce when she was pregnant with me, we were, adults 26 years later. I was incredibly for-

20. SPARK 2010 volume 2 tunate to share a close and uniquely special relation- is where our similarities ended. When she opened ship with my sister many years thereafter. her suitcase, stacks of photos of all stages of her life But, Dorothy didn’t want to meet me. She was spilled out between us. She proudly presented each infuriated that I had found her and didn’t agree to one like a child showing off her most prized posses- talk to me on the phone until weeks later. When she sions, while I sat by quietly, riveted and drinking in angrily questioned my reasons for searching for her, the images that lay before me, intrigued as I was by holding back my sobs, I replied, “I’m not looking for our amazing likeness. Throughout, she elaborated any money, I just want information.” Resentfully, she on how awfully lonely her privileged childhood had refused to speak about the adoption or my birth fa- been as an only child of a German tyrant father and a ther, and didn’t even remember the date I was born! cold, distant, yet docile mother. She didn’t question For weeks after I was paralyzed with depression, or seem interested in me at all, like a self-indulgent desolate and alone in my disappointment and pain child taking center stage with the stories of her life, of her rejection of me, for the second time in my life. and I the understudy. It slowly dawned on me that Months later, Dorothy decided she wanted to I felt empty towards this intimidating woman who see me. On the morning of her visit, I wavered, bore me 26 years ago, strangers we were and would tempted to cancel, terrified of this finalizing moment always be. All the years I had pined over our meet- I had fantasized about all my life. She arrived at my ing seemed like a distant frivolous journey. When doorstep with a small ordinary suitcase in one hand I finally found the courage to ask about my birth and yellow tulips in the other. She had a cultured father, she claimed she didn’t know who he was, air about her, was stylishly dressed and extremely then contradicted herself and retorted, “He wasn’t attractive for her age of 68, with beautiful silver hair, the most handsome man and did not have a decent her make-up perfectly applied. I was touched by job. Your father was a nobody!” The minutes slowly the flowers, tulips being my favorite. “Oh, I always ticked by, until she rose to leave. I was grateful for bring flowers when I visit someone,” she announced her departure, this mother I had forever idealized indignantly, stealing my sense of hope in one mo- in my daydreams of our meeting. She left that day, ment. We sat side by side on my sofa; appetizers I promising she would keep in touch, but I never had earlier agonized over went untouched. I was heard from her again. uncharacteristically quiet and shy, which worked It’s been over fifteen years since that fateful day out well as Dorothy was entirely content to talk when my birth mother and I first met, but the empti- only about herself, while I sat next to her, emotion- ness and pain of her abandonment still overcomes ally numb yet feeling a gradual anxiety stirring up me at unexpected moments from time to time. Yet all my lifelong insecurities. We looked alike physi- never once have I regretted my search, having no cally, with the same eyes, cheekbones and mouth, choice but gratefulness to her for my existence. which she commented on more than once. Yet that “She didn’t question or seem interested in me at all, like a self-indulgent child taking center stage with the stories of her life, and I the understudy.”

21. SPARK 2010 volume 2 22. SPARK 2010 volume 2 clockwise Patterns of the Night | Olesea Fiodorova Hunter’s Table | Tracy Rubin Kayaks | Samantha Gottlich Being Praised | Olesea Fiodorova

23. SPARK 2010 volume 2 Essay by Julie Mcdaid

I was born the third child of five to an Air Force “Still no turkeys.” We emerged from the plane right military family. Moving was a constant. I can vividly onto the tarmac. The heat was so intense I could see remember the time my father gathered us into the liv- the waves of steam rise off the tar. Armed men with ing room and informed us we were moving to Turkey. large guns, speaking a language I did not under- Reactions varied and I can not say what my older stand, were moving us toward a large open plane sisters were thinking, but they were crying. With all hangar. I was confused. Fierce-looking black shep- the uninformed intelligence of a nine year old, I was herd dogs were strutting up and down. Our bags excited. I went running to find a map, looking for a were brought forth and unceremoniously dumped Turkey. I was crestfallen when it was not there. This right on the ground. Our belongings were out in the was one of many youthful illusions shattered. It was open for all to see as the large toothed beasts were there in Turkey I first became aware that my safety sniffing and searching everything. At this point I was not always a given. was thinking two things; “Did anyone see my un- It was customary for us to visit my Mom’s family derwear?” and “If that dog does not find what he is in New England before most major moves. This al- looking for will he eat me?” lowed us to re-connect with her large family of eleven Dad told us we would be living “on the economy.” siblings and countless cousins. The night before the That meant no armed guards checking the ID of flight to Turkey we wanted one last swim with the everyone wanting to get into the barbed wire fenced cousins. We hounded. We begged. We enlisted the area which we called home. That meant no feeling of help of cousins to plead our case. Against her best security. It meant being submerged into the Turkish judgment, Mom caved and said yes to one last swim. culture. It was here in Turkey that I came to realize I We were already packed, so we wore the clothes might not be safe. Bad things do happen, even to us. for the flight and scrambled to borrow suits. When We lived on the fifth floor of the Massey Ferguson we had pushed Mom to the limit with “one more Building. Massey Ferguson was a company that sold minutes,” it was time to leave. “My socks! I can not tractors and farm equipment. The whole first floor find my socks.” Everyone was tearing the yard and was a display of actual farm equipment. We usually house apart searching, when someone spotted Uncle would walk up the five flights of stairs because when Fred’s Great Dane with something clenched between the lift got stuck between floors, we never knew if it his massive jaws. “My socks.” I screamed. This sent would be minutes or hours before help would arrive. the beast off with at least twenty of us cousins in We often received shots to keep us from getting hot pursuit. We chased him through yards, hedges diseases. Our whole arm would go dead, like a heavy and under picnic tables. Then he just sat down. He weight that could not be lifted. Trying with all our looked at us with those woeful brown eyes and in one skill not to let on because, if others found out, it was gulp swallowed my socks! I flew to Turkey the next great fun to punch your arm all day. day. Shoes, no socks. STUPID DOG. It was a sign, I We functioned like other American families. We tell you. An omen of things to come. went to school and shopped. We did all the things The flight was long, too long with five of us to people do, just embedded in the Turkish economy. keep in line. When the plane was making its final My sister and I once took a Turkish bus to the descent I was glued to the window looking at the downtown area. We crammed ourselves on foolishly strange buildings and foreign sights and thinking thinking the bus was full. People kept piling on. The

24. SPARK 2010 volume 2 Boston | Warlley Coelho

stench of so many squished together in the heat of the day was overwhelming. We were packed so tight my feet did not hit the floor. It was like a cartoon. We learned there is no such thing as a full bus. By the time we made it to the door of the bus we had missed our stop by a mile. It was terri- fying, being unsure of the terrain and the safety of where we were. We did eventu- ally make it to the library. We never again took the bus. Everyday was an adventure. American closed all curtains and shades. The reason for this was to keep the buildings were often closed for bomb planes flying overhead from mistaking us for the target. threats. To be fair, I do not remember an The drama was not constant and as kids I think we took it all actual bomb going off. in stride. One of us received a pogo stick as a present. We all ran It was in Turkey I survived my first down the stairs to try it out. We took turns joyfully hopping to our earthquake. The quake was a 7.0 on the hearts content. We, of course, were safely hopping right in front Richter scale. There was a lot of dam- of our building. The Massey Ferguson plate glass windows (to age and building closures, including the show off the shiny new tractors) were no match for my five-year-old American school. The American school brother flying through the air on his pogo stick and landing in the was a four-story building with a staircase middle of that display. At the sound of that crash we bolted as fast up the middle. After the earthquake, half as our legs would carry us. Never turning around. Never slowing the building was condemned. We attend- down. Each of us trying to get home first. Trying so hard to get to ed school half days so the other half of the apartment before the police were called. We never slowed down the school could use the building the rest one little bit, not even to make sure little Ed was okay. I just remem- of the day. During the chaos and confu- ber fleeing and my Mom bombing down the stairs to get Ed. I do sion we were still just kids being kids and not even remember if he was hurt or if we caused an international as soon as the building stopped shaking incident with our carefree hopping. I can not believe we left him. I we (my siblings and I) ran to see if the sev- can not really believe we thought we would get away, as if people enth floor of our building was still there. did not know where the five loud American kids came from every- Because earthquake code calls for no more day. than six floors, we thought maybe the Turkey was the first time we lived on the economy in a foreign seventh floor had just slid off. place. The sights and sounds are vivid in my mind. The early seven- We lived in Turkey during a very ties was a time of turmoil in the region. I became aware that the tumultuous time. In the region a war was U.S. Military was not always thought to be the protector and safe waging. We called it the Cypress war. It haven I had been raised to believe. I learned bad things do happen, was during this time we had forced black- and I was not as safe as I always thought. I learned I can survive outs. A blackout was when we were not and family helps you through. That is unless you are five and pogo allowed to use any light and had to draw through a plate glass window. Then it is every man for himself.

25. SPARK 2010 volume 2 clockwise, page 26 Cactus | Olesea Fiodorova Tiger | Danielle Tower Flowers Macs | Olesea Fiodorova

page 27 Morning Arch | Mandi Marcotte

26. SPARK 2010 volume 2 15. SPARK 2009 volume 1 Something About the Way Like the Tides by Toni Allard by Nelson Baker

Something about the way he looks at me, She came and went like the tides as if he’s watching the sunrise. Fooled into believing the beauty of her would stay with me Something about the way he calls my name, I watched her wash away I simply smile by his amazement. Suddenly my life is changed forever I felt her enter my heart for the first time Something about the way he kisses my lips, When she lay beside mine his passion unfolds as his skin touches mine. Sleeping as soundless as would a mime I brushed my lips against her face Something about the way he holds me in his But somehow it left not even a trace arms, Because the love I once saw in her eyes ever so gently yet ever so tight. Has been tragically erased The tides are high again Something about the way he speaks, But she has not returned to shore from the depth of his soul to the tip of his lips, Leaving only remnants of our love his words mean so very much. Those which could have grown into so much more

Something about the way he smiles, it brightens up the saddest of my days. Street Market | Joanne Graham-Troy

Something about just being with him, there’s no place I’d rather be.

Something about the way he knows me, my strengths, my weaknesses, my hopes, and my fears.

Something about the way he trusts me, fragile yet open to all love’s possibilities.

Something about the way he makes me feel, it’s Christmas in June and springtime in winter.

Something about the way he cares for me, unconditionally and with a purpose.

Something about the way he loves me, for I love him the way that he loves me.

28. SPARK 2010 volume 2 The Darkest Night Guarding the Game by Tanya Green by Deb Scarfo

Out into the void of night It’s a frigid Friday evening, just after 5:00 pm and An era has ended I race from the freezing, ice-cold wind that’s whip- Door locks behind me ping around the masses of people as they stream Cold bites in spite of unseasonable warmth from the Danvers High School parking lot through My heart frozen the gym doors, thankful for the instantaneous What will become of this place? warmth of the school. I pull open the heavy metal Will it be a legacy? doors to the gym, hearing them bang loudly behind Will it disappear in the void of a December’s night? me, and quickly walk past the snack bar, my stom- Taking my nightly walk for the last time ach grumbling as the enticing sweet smell of buttery Thoughts spinning popcorn hits my senses. Teenagers walk past with Memories haunting slices of thick, hot, cheesy pizza, the dripping grease Taking on life marking their paper plates as it seeps through. As Approaching the rail bed I enter the brightly lit gym, a heavy odor of sweat Moving slow permeates the air like an invisible cloud. The stands Stepping in are overflowing with numerous parents cheering and Savor each step, this is the last time chatting, the noise initially deafening to my ears. Feeling each rock and tie with scrutiny Kids swarm the gym, intent on either watching the As if making a sensory recording game that’s in progress, or with each other, sitting Stopping close in tight groups. The freshman game is ending, Never had before and luckily I find a free space next to a few other To take it in Danvers parents that I know. I’m anxiously excited The empty station at night to watch my oldest son, Michael, play basketball Wrapped in silence against Marblehead High tonight, a team known for Still their numerous wins. Timeless Michael casually jogs on the court with his team- Could come back to do this mates, ready to play in his white shorts and tank; a Never blue 22 blazes on his back. At 15, he’s nearly a grown Won’t be the same man, standing 6’1”, and weighing a solid 170 pounds. Purposeless, meaningless His dark skin and hair contrasts with the bright white Dead after tonight uniform he’s wearing for the home game tonight. He Fading into history immediately looks up into the bleachers, searching Endless wake finally ends for my familiar, encouraging face. Spotting me wave Lights and a whistle!! and smile at him, he gives a slight nod, attempting to I’ve stopped too long hide this gesture from his teammates. But the look in Platform feels as never before his eyes gives him away, instantaneously transport- Turn back see the approaching train ing to mine his appreciation that I am always there, Rays of light cast upon glittering rails eagerly cheering him on. Yet darkness prevails Michael was born to play basketball, and I’ve Empty and cold been passionately sharing in the intensity of his love This is the darkest night more, page 30

29. SPARK 2010 volume 2 continued from page 29 and sheer talent for the game from the long ago time “Holy shit, Mom, I made JV!” of his toddler years, to his now thrilling high school As the freshman game ends, I’m aware of the career as a guard for Danvers High. “One, two, dozens of Marblehead spectators swarming the three……twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two,” we both bleachers; parents, family and friends supporting would gleefully chime in unison when he was a child, their town’s team. I eagerly search the court for counting shot after shot he would get in a row in his number 22 and happily notice he is starting. “Before Little Tikes net. His face alight with unpretentious every game, I have to listen to rap on my iPod to pride and pure joy from playing this sport hasn’t psych myself up,” Michael had informed me earlier, changed much since then, except for the goatee that while sitting next to me, plugs in his ears and lost in now decorates his chin, clearly marking the years’ the music, the hood of his favorite American Eagle passage. sweatshirt partially covering his eyes and face, mak- Michael worked tremendously hard for this cov- ing it difficult for me to gauge his true mood. Obvi- eted place on the high school team, and it had been ously this ritual of his works, as within 40 seconds he up and down emotionally throughout the tryouts has the ball in his grasp, dribbling half court, weaving his way between the Marblehead defense. He raises the ball over his head and gracefully shoots the ball in the hoop for a smooth three pointer. “Nicely “Holy shit, done, Scarf!” Coach Curley yells to my son by the nickname he’s earned from his teammates. Danvers jumps out for an early lead and the score is quickly 14 Mom, I to 9. Brian Curley is the Danvers’ JV coach. Thirty- years-old, fair skinned with a buzz cut, he is surpris- made JV!” ingly short, his team towering over him. Yet watching him pace back and forth calling out plays from last November. “You’re a shoo-in for JV,” his previ- the sidelines, he appears overly strong and powerful ous travel coach had told him numerous times dur- by his confident stance and undying spirit for the ing last season. But a new high school coach came game. “Sprint back on D! Sprint back on D!” is his on board this year, announcing prior to tryouts, “No favorite cry, laughs Michael. “And don’t let his size freshman will be playing JV.” Michael was crushed fool you,” my son had warned me earlier. “Our last upon hearing this devastating news, coming home loss against Saugus was nasty. After the game, Cur- that evening from the gym refusing to eat, which is ley slammed his clipboard against the wall four times his favorite activity besides playing basketball and in the locker room, and didn’t say a word to any of texting his friends. Then mid-tryouts, Michael was us. We knew we were in trouble for practices that astonished to be personally invited by the JV coach, week!” he had muttered to me, rolling his eyes. and over the next two stressful and excruciating It’s now late in the first quarter, Danvers has days, he focused all his powerful energies into mak- possession, and the play is called. “Louisville!” the ing the team. The last night of tryouts I anxiously point guard yells to his teammates. Michael has awaited the news as if it were my own, and was the ball, dribbling it gracefully yet resolutely down amazed at the shocking text I received from Michael the court, and passes the ball for a smooth assist to that evening summarizing his awe and disbelief. his teammate, who quickly runs a lay-up, knocking

30. SPARK 2010 volume 2 the ball in. “Go White! Go Danvers!” the crowd and with thirty seconds left in the game, they easily cheers loudly and passionately! Before I know it, the score, making it alarmingly close at 54-53. Marble- half time buzzer sounds. Danvers is up, the score head suddenly calls a timeout with eight seconds 29-20, and the team confidently jogs to the locker left. Curley instructs his team at the sideline, “Close room, upbeat and anticipating a much needed win. out on the shooters and don’t let them get a good Coach Curley fervently instructs them, “We’re doing look. Play your hearts out for eight more seconds! a great job on offense fellas, just close out and watch Okay, let’s go!” You could sense the team’s nervous for number 5. We still gotta play hard for another apprehension to win this game. The players run 16 minutes, so let’s end this nine game losing streak back on the court. Marblehead has possession and now!” quickly passes the ball back and forth between three Back on court, Danvers sprints to the sidelines, players, desperately seeking an opening for a decent huddles up and raises their right fists together chant- shot. Curley is running up and down the sidelines, ing, “One, two, three…..Danvers!” Third quarter arms flailing, “Get on D! Get on D!” he screams and Danvers is unstoppable. Teammate 11 passes the hoarsely. The bleachers vibrate from the teenagers ball to Michael who quickly sprints up the court and sitting below loudly banging their feet against them. easily tosses the ball in the net for another exciting “Defense!” boom, boom, “Defense!” I steal a hasty three pointer. As Michael runs back to center court, glance at the clock, three seconds remaining! Mar- he steals a quick glance up at me, not wanting to miss blehead gets open and shoots the ball. The gym is my face shining with enduring pride, my smile wide silent as the crowd nervously holds their breath. The as I clap and cheer for him. Marblehead quickly falls ball arcs slowly towards the basket as if in slow mo- behind and the score is now 45-32. Danvers is certain tion as the hushed crowd intensely watches, awaiting they can win this game. “Eight more minutes of hard the game’s outcome in this one shot. work, and we’ve got this!” Curley cries to his team. “Swoosh!” The ball glides through the hoop for a But as the fourth quarter rolls around, the tables three-pointer simultaneous with the buzzer sounding turn and Marblehead quickly scores fifteen points. loudly. “Yeah, Marblehead!!!” “Whoo-hoo!!” The The score is now 52-47 with two minutes remaining, Marblehead crowd stands and uproariously cheers Danvers’ lead. Marblehead steals the ball, runs up and claps, their team ecstatically patting each other for a lay-up, and the ball swishes in effortlessly. “Get on the back, slapping high fives. I sit stunned, too the rebound!” screams Curley. Michael grabs the ball speechless to move. I watch the two teams lightly tap and sprints down the court, jumping high to shoot as hands as they file past each other in the post game a Marblehead player shoves him down. They both line. Michael looks up at me, this time unconcerned sprawl to the floor. The ref shrilly blows his whistle, if his teammates notice, and angrily shakes his head “Foul. Red number 5!” he calls, motioning a pushing in disgust, his face tight, his eyes clouded over with action with his hands. Michael stands at the foul line disappointment. I then sadly watch the Danvers and bounces the ball twice, then twirls it in his hands, players walk despondently back towards the locker hesitates, then repeats this move again, another ritual room, their heads bowed and shoulders drooped, of his. He crouches low, lifts the ball over his head devastated by their vanished fleeting chance at end- and shoots. The ball glides in. “Come on Scarf! Go ing their nine game losing streak. White!” shriek the high-pitched teenage girls from Next Friday night they will be playing against behind me. Michael makes both foul shots and the Winthrop, a rival team they had beat earlier in the score is now 54-51. Marblehead grabs the rebound, season, and I just know they will beat them again!

31. SPARK 2010 volume 2 My Road to Life Paint Me a Picture by Alexander Ajede by Samantha Mackenzie

I have been left on a lane I saw you cry once, The cement ragged and dry And I didn’t even feel bad. Alone to crawl, walk, then stagger with a cane I thought about feeling bad, you standin’ there And watch others go by. With these chunky tears strolling down your face Pebbles and earth imbedding in my hands Like they owned the place. Eliciting a sharp cry Like rain on a window, painting a new picture Abrasions occur for every step that lands Making me wish I would die Of what was originally there. Overtime calluses will take place I won’t feel bad for you while you’re busy Numbing the once so soft body Feeling bad for yourself. Leaving the past erased I always look the most feminine, Only as a distant memory The most like a woman, With the will strong I will pave my road When I’m upset. I wonder if that’s why he does it. Checking for signs to ascertain I picture those strong women with fire in their eyes, Resilient until the path unfolds Holding reign over the kingdom that is their home Until nothing of me remains By placing their hands directly on their hips. The smoothness comforting, the fog gone and incipience of people coming into view I envy their power and fear what hides inside. Makes me dazzle transiently under the sun But when I stand there, dead-eyed with the one As I see life, clear and anew I ought to trust, my hands on my hips with one Cocked ever so slightly, but a firm stand no less… I don’t feel fierce or strong. Remember when I said I didn’t even feel bad? I lied. I feel as though my hands land on my hips To keep everything from falling out, And to keep myself from falling apart. I wonder if that is the true female quality: The ability to maintain appearances that We are not weak in our time of weakness. As one hand stays on my hip and the other to my chest I shake my head, trying to grip the reins. “Lordy, oh lord.” I know it sounds like This boy don’t know what’s a comin’ to ‘im. Really, my hand is there to hide my heart. I hand him a hanky to wipe those embarrassing things Off his face, pretty little face.

left 20. SPARK 2009 volume 1 Prom Lady in Red Dress | Warlley Coelho faculty, staff , student volunteers and student contributors I saw you cry once, LISA ALTOMARI And I didn’t even feel bad. Professor I thought about feeling bad, you standin’ there NSCC English Department With these chunky tears strolling down your face Spark Literary Committee & Judge Like they owned the place. JAMES CHISHOLM Like rain on a window, painting a new picture Professor Of what was originally there. NSCC Cultural Arts Department I won’t feel bad for you while you’re busy Spark Art Committee & Judge Feeling bad for yourself. SANDRA FUHS I always look the most feminine, Program Coordinator The most like a woman, NSCC Digital Graphic Design Program When I’m upset. I wonder if that’s why he does it. Spark Art Committee & Judge I picture those strong women with fire in their eyes, LLOYD HOLMES Holding reign over the kingdom that is their home Dean of Students By placing their hands directly on their hips. Enrollment & Student Services Department I envy their power and fear what hides inside. Student Life Spark Art Committee & Judge But when I stand there, dead-eyed with the one SOPHIE PLAMOWSKI I ought to trust, my hands on my hips with one Presidential Scholar student, Spark Art & Literary Judge and volunteer Cocked ever so slightly, but a firm stand no less… I don’t feel fierce or strong. CALA ELDER Remember when I said I didn’t even feel bad? Presidential Scholar student, Spark Art & Literary Judge and volunteer I lied. ANGELA PANEVINO I feel as though my hands land on my hips Presidential Scholar student, Spark Art & Literary Judge and volunteer To keep everything from falling out, And to keep myself from falling apart. MARK SHERF Professor I wonder if that is the true female quality: NSCC English Department The ability to maintain appearances that Spark Literary Committee & Judge We are not weak in our time of weakness. As one hand stays on my hip and the other to my chest VICTORIA PASCIUTO-DOGRAMACIAN Assistant Director I shake my head, trying to grip the reins. Student Life Services “Lordy, oh lord.” I know it sounds like Spark coordinator This boy don’t know what’s a comin’ to ‘im.

Really, my hand is there to hide my heart. SAMANTHA MCGILLOWAY Printed on recycled paper. Director of Marketing & Communications I hand him a hanky to wipe those embarrassing things NSCC Marketing Department Off his face, pretty little face. Spark Art Committee & Judge

ERIN FORD Graphic Designer NSCC Marketing Department Spark layout & design North Shore Community College 1 Ferncroft Road Danvers, MA 01923-0840

Danvers Campus 978-762-4000

Lynn Campus 781-593-6722

Institute for Corporate Training & Technology/Beverly 978-236-1200 www.northshore.edu