Musings

Wesley College’s Literary and Art magazine

Fall 2010Cover by Myles Miller

AlcoholismThrough my genes I have seen,

For my pa and his pa were not clean.It started with only one,

But that day turned into a ton.Slowly, day by day,

My life, it slipped away.Marriage, only for some time,

Kids, now a tough mountain to climb.Family was here,

Now forgotten with beer.PA, DE, it stuck with me,

Stubborn, I just couldn’t see.I cleaned up my act,

Only to once again go back.Finally, I might be strong,

Temptations, they just create what’s wrong.Today, I see myself one man,

If not, hit me across the face with a pan.Family’s back, congratulatory,

I want to stay here, end that old story.My days, they might be numbered now,

My past, a monster without a howl.

He Wonders His embrace, Warm and familiar, His touch, Soft and gentle, His kiss, Sweet and lovely, And he wonders Why I love him.

His eyes, Like melted chocolate,His smile, Like a sunset,His hands, Like a key to my lock,And he wonders Why I love him.

His laugh, Makes me laugh too,His voice, Makes me listen,His words, Make me remember,And he wonders Why I love him.

All of these things Yet so much more,And he wonders Why I love him.These are why I love him.

IridescenceWhen the bottom of my world dropped out, I drowned. The water rushed over my head; the sky was obscured; light vanished as I was buried under cold, opaque black-ness. I had no sense of direction. Either I was down twenty fathoms where no point of light could reach, or a great storm raged above, obscuring the sun and blocking its entry through the water. I grew used to the gloom. I assumed that without a light peeking through the murk, there was no way out, and I acquiesced, believing I was destined to be a denizen of the shadows. But I began to wonder, what if I summoned my strength and I pushed off from the ocean floor? What if I jumped? What if I swam up and out? What if it didn’t matter whether there was a light to guide me or not? What if I just called for the courage to move?

And I pushed with my feet.And I pulled with my hands.And I kicked with my legs.And I screamed from my soul.And I kept my eyes open.And I broke free.

As I surfaced with the force of a bullet and broke the tension, that line between water and air, the sun was glistening all around me. I breathed deeply and filled my lungs with life.Water droplets sparkled with iridescence as they shimmered on my skin and hair. I lifted my eyes to the sky and I realized that I was shining. Just as darkness is a choice, so is light.

-Susan Redington Bobby

-Michael McGuigan

-Melissa Boyd

Myles Miller

Myles Miller

Delaware Bay, Afternoon, December 5

Like an angry green slate broken into rolling fragments of a sea, an army of water in olive drab, breakers white fuming crash hap-hazardly upon the shore like samurai. Bullets of ice and sand describe this free-for-all between the gods of sea and sky, of wind and H20.

The hard wet wind drives the normally placid bay upon the upper reaches of the shore, biting the feet of dunes looking suddenly weak and fallible.Eyes almost closed against wind-born shards of silica and sleet, vulnerable under this baptism of fire’s antithesis, coat buttoned against the northwind’s ferocity, like that time in Alaska, when, the temperature having dropped to fifty below, shirts and parkas had been layered for protection against the hawk, or like the fire-fighters, drawn tight around the neck for maximum protection against the heat and burning, cindered air then, speak, suddenly, to no one in particular about how God’s grace is universal, open the eyes and jacket, and smile in the company of friends.

-Jamie Brown

Speak for Me

My parents r gone there’s no 1 to speak 4 meno 1 to tell u how great I could be. Who’ll tell my story and who will be proud just 2

show me off in front of a crowd? Who’ll speakof those cute things I used 2 do? Like when Ispoke my 1st words and tied my own shoe.

Who’ll speak of my accomplishments be theysmall or great? Who’ll tell of me dropping

that good china plate? Who’ll hang childhoodphotos and save my diploma? My parents r gone

there’s no 1 to speak 4 me no 1 to tell u howgreat I could be. Who’ll speak of my birth andfirst wobbly steps? Who’ll luv me 4ever w/out1 regret? There’s no 1 my son that knows meso well. So I must tell u of me and my part of

u. Then you’ll tell my story and u can be proud. Then maybe you’ll show me off in front

of a crowd, and I’ll speak of your birth w/that cord round your neck and how I’ll luv u

4ever w/out 1 regret. -Lisa-Joy Sanders

Writer’s BlockA writer I cannot be

All my ideas have left meEmotions push my imagination

Even with all I feelI can’t seem to get it out

Itthe masterpiece from my soulthe very essence of my heart

Itstuck within the closed abyss

enclosed in my mind that wants a releasejust come out already

the love, hate, sad, mad, excitement, torment of life,

remove yourself and find a placein my journal, notebook, or scrap paper,

then maybe I can reclaim the titleof a person who uses a pen as a riffle

and words as the ammunition

-Danielle Dawkins

The Pain Inside

Ithurts;everythinghurts.Notphysically,itwasthementalstrainthatparalyzedme.Itwasnevermeanttoturnoutthisway.Iwanttocry,butIpromisedmyselftonevercryinfrontofher.ShealreadybelievesI’mweak;Iwillnotletherseemebroken.Ipooledtogethermylastreservesofstrengthandputonmyexpression-lessmask.Whyisshestillyelling?Whydoesshelooksoangry?Makeitgoaway,makeitallgoaway.Shewentthroughmythings;sheinvadedmyprivacy;sheisnottobetrustedeveragain.Nooneistobetrusted.Ishalltrustnoone.Everythingwantstoshutdown,tojustgotosleepandpretendnoneofthiseveryhap-

Walk PoemI walk back to my room from the library Take a short cut through the amphitheater

And stop to watch lighting bugs Tell stories to tired ants

About their ancestors in the sky I watch a small group of grasshoppers

Get aggravated by two cricketsThat are playing an extremely loud game

Of Marco PoloI glance at the moon

And notice how it acts like one big nightlightIt puts the hardworking ants to sleep

I yawn and realize it’s way past my bedtime

-Joseph “Pablo” Perez

Dear MotherI just wanted to say,

Thank you from the bottom of my heart,You were always there for me right from the start.

Every minute of every day,You show you care in every single way.

You did what you could,With what money you had,Buy a better life you would,

But ours was never bad.I was never cold, hungry, or sad,

The little things in life are what made me glad.

This, and the never-ending love that you give,Means the most to me, and is how I want to live.

There are not enough words to express how I feel, But the thanks, and love in my heart is real.

You are the best I could ever ask for,I love you from the moon, to the stars, and more.

-Katherine Ashwell

pened.Pretendthatsheneverfoundmyjournalandreadit.Pretendthatslowlybutsurelymylifewasn’ttearingitselfapart.Pretendthatshedidnotpullmeearlyfromschoolwiththelameexcuseofadoctor’sappointment.PretendthatIwasneverinterrogated. Ithappenedanyway.NomatterhowmuchIwisheditdidnot.Theoverwhelmingsenseofhelplessnessanddreadbegantocrushmyspiritastimepassedandshestilldidnotgiveup.Questionafterquestionthathadnoanswers.Whenwouldshestopstaring?Whenwouldshestopglaring?Iretreateddeepwithinmyself,tuningoutallthemeanwords.Toblockoutalltheemotions,Ibegantoshutdown,tonotexistinreality.Asmythinkingslowedandthenwashedaway,shesaidsomethingthatIwillneverforget.“Iamyourmother.Whydon’tyoutellmeanything?”

-AshleyHarmon

FoxIn the wild stalking my prey,

This pointed face hunts during the day.Food for the family, back to the den,

Once I got eggs, they belonged to a hen.Winter is here, warmth in my tail,

Thick fur, what a good ol’ pal.Amber in color, sitting in the field,

Blending in with nature, my identity concealed.Some think I’m a dog, just think out of the box,

I’m in your local town, I’m a fox.

- Michael McGuigan -Michael McGuigan

HaikuDesolate tears roll

down the anxiety filledcheeks of a Princess.

***An old friend, like time,

(was never lost between us)Becomes a new friend.

***

-Danielle Dawkins

BBQingThe smell, charbroil and flames,

Put on the meat, we just won some games.Beans on the stove, hickory to taste,Veggies all grilled, no need to waste.Well done inside, drink in my hand,

Dig in, digest, then hit the sand.

-Michael McGuigan

SkunkMy stripes are common, like a zebra in sight,

When it’s time to eat, I go out at night.I have no fear, I’m out n about,

If there’s a problem, I’ll lift my tail with no doubt.That smell, my weapon of choice,

Walk away, thus I won’t have to rejoice.Some think I’m a weasel, or even Pepe’ Le Pew,

I’m a skunk, who are you?

-Michael McGuigan

Simplicity An overlooked thorn pricks Irena’s fingertip as she reaches for a plump raspberry bursting with crim-son light. She ignores the instinct to pull away, to clutch her hand, which is encouraged more by surprise rather than the slight pain. She continues to stretch for the berry. The fruit falls into her palm as soon as she touches it, as if eager to be free of the burden of carrying its own weight. Almost instantly, she lets the berry roll from her fingers into the pail between her warm, crouching legs. It lands with a satisfying clink. She brushes the black netting away from the branches to reveal five more ripe raspberries. Someone has driven pegs into the ground to keep the netting secure, protecting the plant from hungry finches and blackbirds. It does nothing to stave off curious travelers. An inauspicious snack has the misfortune of be-coming trapped in one of the tetragonal holes of the netting, and in his struggle to break free has sealed a life of imprisonment. His black eyes are now gray, and his long body is picked of nutrition by scavengers. Irena wonders if the poor snake had been fortunate enough to die before the ravenous animals found him. She moves nearer to the snake for a closer examination. His small skeleton is bleached by days in torrid sunlight. His head shows the only evidence left of black scales. The more the snake had struggled to free himself, the more the netting had tightened its grip. She pushes herself up and brushes the dirt and gravel off her hands and legs. She grasps the metal handle of the bucket, raspberries scarcely filling the bottom. They thud to either side in rhythm with her steps. As Irena opens the door of her car, a cloud of heat grates her skin. She climbs into the sweltering vehicle and starts the engine. Immediately, she reaches for the air conditioning knob and twists it to full power. Small orbs of sweat start to form at the edge of her hairline. A disgruntled map, wrinkled and stained from use, is lying on the passenger seat. Expectation shoots up her spine like an electric bolt as her eyes recognize its presence. Only a few hours more and Irena will be passing the border into Canada. As she shifts the car into drive, it jolts, and the familiar hum of the engine regains a steady pulse. It is comforting in an unrecognizable place. A vacant landscape holds no memories, no meaning except realization of how many places she has not yet seen. And each new place holds a potential promise of a future memory if she stops long enough to contour it in her mind. Images blur as the car picks up speed, until shapes smear and colors fuse. This is not who I was, perhaps not who I am now. I do not take risks. I do not instinctively cash my checks, pack my bag and drive across country and into foreign regions. I told myself as I cashed my checks, whispered it in hushed breaths as I packed my bags, screamed it with delight as I drove away. Away from home, away from what I knew, away from the old.

-Alicia Seewald

Myles Miller Myles Miller

Second Chanceand thinking about it, reminds me of the pain and I can’t help but cry

you took my feelings for you and turned them against meand it left me broken and empty

I remember how you used to promise we would be togethernow I can’t help but admit, that your lies were clever

even after all you’ve said and donea part of me still wants us to move past this and carry on

there was something about you, a different look in your eyeslike everything I was searching for, in you I could always find

but now I know the truth and that it was all untruecan’t believe I almost gave myself completely to you

you hurt my heart in the worst wayI should have never let myself fall for you in the first place

that was my mistake and now I’m paying for itand now that the truth is out you’re begging me for a second chance

but this time you won’t even get a second glanceI’m actually happy now, that you wanted to go different ways

‘cause ever since then I’ve been seeing no clouds just sunny daysI never knew why I kept running back and kept taking the pain, you’re just lame

but now I’m starting a new life so I’m turning the pagenow the only thing left to say is goodbye

on second thought I take that back I never should have said

-Kyle Pequeno

IdentItyComparing my life to a game much like telephoneMy identity takes on a role that is not of my ownJoseph Joe Blow Pablo slowly become someone I’m notTrying to remember who I was because over time I slowly forgotScared of the man in the mirror when I glance at my reflectionKnowing if I chose to continue I’ll end up in the wrong directionUnderstanding that life will always be full of temptations and distractionsI step into manhood and take full responsibility for all of my own actionsCorrecting my past and acknowledging every mistakeLike a blurry dream of mist with some time I’ll awakePablo Blow Joe Joseph this person I learn to acceptStarting to move toward a brighter future with every single step

-Joseph “Pablo” Perez

It’s TimeIt’s that time of the year,

Ah…lacrosse must be near.Put on the pads, get on the field,Hard work must be put in, ‘cause

victory is never sealed.Sticks are ready, helmets on tight,

Fields are lined, goals in sight.Pre-season is over, the time is

now, Can you feel it, hell yeah-I need

a towel!The season is starting, student-

athletes everywhere,I look in my teammates’ eyes,

man what a stare.Here we go, zebras and balls,I hear the whistle, there goes

those calls.All out, my sixty minutes is here,A goal, assist, save, don’t forget

to clear!I look up at the scoreboard, zeros

on the clock,Victory is ours, but not always a

lock.I celebrate with my teammates,

for this game we have won,Remember this moment, for our

work has just begun!

-Michael McGuigan

Myles Miller

Sadness takes over, As moments of happiness Fade into nothing.Tears replace smiles As people are left alone In a lonely world.Sobs overcome laughs As jokes are turned over Into an evil threat.

I was happy Just seconds ago But I left it behind.His words were calming And I felt strength But I walked away.

His eyes were kind And I felt love But I drove off.

Each time I leave him I feel it all Stay with him.Each time I say goodbye My smiles turn to frowns And my laughs turn to sobs.Each time, But always I leave him behind.

-Melissa Boyd

Leave Him Behind

People Who Live in RainWhen is the day

In which people will get along?Times are getting better

But there’s still something wrongChildren are still dying with starvation and disease

Children are living on the streets and some live in the trees

People who haveThey still need

It’s kind of a shame Because some people don’t even have enough to feed

Their children, their loved ones, just their familyAnd it’s weird because those that have

Don’t even show the least sympathy

I know that I don’t have everything I wantI know that I do have everything I need

But people like me need to stop complainingBecause there are people out there

On the street when it’s raining

With no food, no hatHardly any clothes

They are out there trying to keep warm from the coldIs it so wrong to help one another out?

Just think about the children Whose lives are desperate

Who have to scream and shout

Because their bodies are aching because of the painAnd it’s even worse when they live in the rainThey depend not on their mother and father

Because some parents are deadSome don’t know how this feelsBecause they live off of bread

Is it so wrong to help one another out?Because I feel kind of guilty without a doubt

I feel this way ‘cause I eat food every dayI have a bed to rest my head

I have a quarter to buy cold waterI have a family to love and care for me

I have all these things and I still complainI don’t even think about the people

Who Live...In...Rain

-Laura Jones

Name Telling (Poetry Nation)I guess you can consider my mother Maria to be the Puerto Rican Mary

Even though she wasn’t a virgin It was Robert’s baby she chose to carry

It wasn’t until she gave birth That Robert chose not to bother

Leaving Joseph to grow up by himselfAnd without his father

She had to raise her son alone That she and Robert made

Having a lot of similarities with Mary Maria was also afraid

Joseph’s middle name is De JesusAnd we all know Jesus means savior

But he grew up in East Harlem Where he saw nothing but bad behavior

Being both the father and the sonHe raised himself to be a better man

But not having his father around Was something he couldn’t understand

Regularly feeling confusedHe would go to sleep whenever he felt less than equal

That’s when he would dream about angels Saying it was on him to better his people

-Joseph “Pablo” Perez

Myles Miller

Seven Shots

Where should I start?My life has so many different parts. Where were you when I wasn’t at my best?God excluded you from my life like an obstacle or some sort of test. Birthdays, holidays were always missed.Damn, all I wanted was a hug and a kiss! Mom didn’t do this alone.So why should she have to suffer and raise two GOOD kids on her own? Tears were constantly runnin’ down my face.To not have YOU in my life was such a disgrace. How hard is it to say I LOVE YOU And promise not to lie and always stay true? I will never know what it feels like to have a father’s love.Something that’s pure and sent from above. I forgive you for what you did.You missed out on such a beautiful kid. Seven shots straight through my heart.YOU are the reason my life has so many different parts.

-Keva Brooks

Panic Attack

I swore I could hear the defying thud — the finality of life itself. It rang in my ears, and brought tears to my eyes. The pain from the thud was excruciating, like someone was squeezing my heart, like it was going to burst, like it was a firework.

Then, I couldn’t breathe. Oxygen was not coming easy, and my vision was getting blurry. I could feel the earth moving with me, dancing un-der my corpse and above my grave.

“Panic attack,” I thought simply as my heart started up again, racing so fast I thought it would fly right out of my chest. Only time could tell me how long it would last, but I knew… my heart was slowing at an unsteady pace, my dizziness abandoning me kindly. Clarity was coming back, too as colors seemed to separate from each other and letters formed words instead of blobs.

Just another panic attack.It was only the fifth one today.Today started three hours ago.

- Melissa Boyd

Minute ManShe called me a minute man And I think that it is okayBecause I do it in sixty seconds Or less instead of taking all dayIn both indoors and outdoorsI get it done with no fearExcited when people watchI do it faster when they cheerWhen three more people join on inThat only can make it more funInstead of being sixty secondsin less than four minutes we’ll be doneHint: This Poem is about track and field. I run the 400m sprint in less than 60 seconds.

-Joseph “Pablo” Perez

Mary Saurratt: 1865There were half a dozen men

or more who met in my boardinghouse from time to time in the weeks

before the shooting. Sometimesthey blustered as men will, sometimes

they whispered when I came into the room.I did not know them well, except

for my son, John, in Canada now as I wait to be hanged—the first woman, they tell me

ever in this country—if Mr. Johnsondoesn’t give me clemency.

I had no grudge against Mr. Lincoln—I saw him, sometimes, walkingand thinking, I would surmisefrom his furrowed brow, arms

clasped behind his back. I did notwish him dead as these men

seemed to. I wished no one dead.My jailers are not harsh men,

merely deceived by what lawyersand newspapers say about me,

but I am no Salome, nor want to be.

-H.A. Maxson

Myles Miller

CHINOWith a relationship only through GodWe were brothersLeading by exampleYou taught me to care for othersAn old man before your timeYou had your priorities straightWho would have guessed an early death Would have been your fateWe barely spoke But you always found time to pass on knowledgeAnd was always excited to see meWhen I came back home from collegeEven though we were not blood related You gave me love that I was not afraid to embraceAnd I know for a fact that if more men were like you The world would truly be a better placeSo I sit in my room, listening to Cross RoadsAnd hear your voice talk to me when I prayAnd you continue to pass on knowledgeTelling me we’ll see each other again one dayBecause death is promised to everyoneEven though we act like we have no clueBut that does not change the fact that

While I am alive I will always miss you.

-Joseph “Pablo” Perez

Katherine Ashwell Sophomore, Education “Dear Mother”

Melissa Boyd Freshman, Biology “He Wonders” “Leave Him Behind” “Panic Attack”

Keva Brooks Sophomore, Education “Seven Shots”

Jamie Brown Adjunct Professor, English “Delaware Bay, Afternoon, December 5”

Danielle Dawkins Parker Library Assistant “Haiku” “Writer’s Block”

Ashley Harmon Sophomore, Biology “The Pain Inside”

Laura C. Jones Freshman, Education “People Who Live in Rain”

H. A. Maxson Adjunct Professor, English “Mary Saurratt: 1865”

Michael McGuigan Senior, Education “Alcoholism” “BBQing” “Fox” “It’s Time” “Skunk”

Myles Miller Senior, Psychology -photography

Kyle Pequeno Freshman, Psychology “Second Chance”

Joseph “Pablo” Perez Sophomore, Liberal Studies “Chino” “Identity” “Minute Man” “Name Telling” “Walk Poem”

Susan Redington Bobby Assistant Professor, English “Iridescence”

Lisa-Joy Sanders Education and Kinesiology Administrative Assis-tant “Speak for Me”

Alicia Seewald Senior, English “Simplicity”

STAFFEditorsDoryann L. Barnhardt Victoria N. Hodgson-Faught

Faculty Advisor Susan R. Bobby

PhotographyMyles Miller

Staff Collette O’Neal Alicia Seewald Evita Wade

CONTRIBUTORS

Photo by Myles Miller