Stanford Anthology for Youth: Volume 24

My heart starts racing as I see you standing there,
Edgy but willing, I take a breath of air.
As a promise you tell me you’ll help me reach the sky,
Noticing your sincerity, I know you’ll take me high.
So we put are heads together, and you help me make a plan,

But I have a couple of doubts, so I stop, ‘cause I can.
Even though I’m scared, you still throw me up so far,
I am up so high, that I reach and touch a star.
Now, I start to fall once again through time and space,
Going down I relax even though it’s a fast pace.

You’re still there, because you swore that if I fell you would catch me,
Only as I come much closer, you start running, that’s what I see.
Upset, that’s what I feel, because now I’m all alone,
Resistant to persistence, accept and condone.
Still something stirs inside me, like a diamond in the rough,
Everything I am wants to soar, though it’s tough.
Letting go of all my doubts, I choose to make a new start,
Feeling free, I go so high, it was always in my heart…

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"Liberty Chocolate Coin Against a Navajo Carpet," Sophia Howell. Sophia
is an eighth-grader at JLS Middle School who enjoys the arts. She is
dyslexic and an avid broadway fan who loves both "Hamilton" and "Dear
Evan Hansen". She also enjoys going to the beach and walking with her
mom, dad, sibling, and dog.

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Resilience

David Henri

Empty Streets

Wind whistles past the street lamps, the weathered cobblestone road
slick from rain. The lamps illuminate the empty streets, lifeless sidewalks
yearning for a soul to walk upon them. Grass trembles in the wind, and
slowly reclaims the land that was stolen from it years ago, as the days and
nights merge into an endless cycle. The sun rises and falls, until it is just a
line that goes from end to end of the horizon. Horizons turn orange,
purple, and blur between colors until they merge to form a single color.
Small flowers quiver in the cracks of the sidewalk, the bleached concrete
slowly giving in to its demise. A tree’s root pushes against the hard asphalt,
battling against the sidewalk for precious space.

Locked shop doors turn away the rare soul that walks the streets, closed
curtains hide the dust covered shelves. Slips of old newspaper
advertisements twirl in the wind, the only moving things in the empty
streets. Heaps of brown leaves piled at the base of the gnarled trees, their
branches devoid of leaves. A lone bench sits on the small oasis in the
concrete jungle, near the intersection. The stained wood groans against the
bar holding it in place, green paint flaking off of the empty bench. A lone,
blue disposable glove sits near the bench, forgotten. Its fingers are splayed
across the grass, clutching an unseen object.

David is an avid reader who loves to write in his free time, and
plays soccer in normal times. He has hobbies of running and
volunteering with friends, and loves to spend time with his
family and adorable guinea pig.

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Yet life goes on. The birds fly overhead, chirping as they swoop in and out
of air currents together. Ants carry miniscule bits of leaves back to their
colonies, and descend into the cracks in the sidewalk. The sun still rises, and
it still sinks below the horizon. The moon still shines, its craters still present.
Time still passes, days still turn into nights, nights into days. The clouds still
dance, and the river still flows. The grass still grows, and the trees still grow
taller yet. The lamps still wait, their halos of light illuminating the streets.
And a single soul walks across the awaiting sidewalk, clutching his jacket as
he continues against the wind. With his hat pulled down, obscuring the view
of his eyes, the person looks up at the lamps, and the smear of colors that
make up the sunset. The person walks past the line of ants, past the cracks in
the sidewalk, past all that stands in his way. Then he stops, having reached
his destination. And the bench now has a purpose in the no longer empty
streets.

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"Mountain on the Lake," Juliana Vattuone. Juliana is in 7th grade
at CMS. In her free time, she likes to cook and read.

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Resilience

Sophia Howell

World By Us

The chances of existing are slim, and us existing together is impossible.
Who are we to dishonor this opportunity?
To know each other, and act together,

And cry together in solidarity for the things that Matter the most.
To be the catalysts of Change the world so longs for.

We have been taught we Write our own history, yet we forget with Every
passing moment, the stories of our Descendants are being written by us.

We must unite to ignite the otherwise dormant Reservoirs of hope and
power inside of us, To create a wildfire of change.

Else, we begin to Fade and die watching ashes of sorrow and anguish
Rain on our beloved neighbors.

So, I beg: let us write Our history in rainbow, until the day we can No longer.
And, then, let’s lay our bodies To rest in the same place they came from,
Finding comfort in knowing they will one
Day be reclaimed and transformed into the
Coal to fuel someone else’s reservoir.

Sophia is an eighth grader at JLS Middle School who enjoys the
arts. She is dyslexic and an avid broadway fan who loves both
"Hamilton" and "Dear Evan Hansen". She also enjoys going to
the beach and walking with her mom, dad, sibling, and dog.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Stanford Anthology for Youth would like to thank the following groups for
their contributions and support:

Associated Students of Stanford University
Haas Center for Public Service

Stanford Office of Student Engagement
We would also like to thank all of the participating schools, teachers, and

parents for nurturing the talent of these young writers and artists.
And we would like to thank all of the students who submitted to the Anthology

this year, as well as every year.
Without you, there would be no Anthology.

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