EQUUS Annual Student Literary and Art Magazine St. Francis DeSales High School • 2022-23
Brandon Saucedo, senior
Equus has been a literary tradition of St. Francis DeSales High School for 29 annual volumes. English Instructor and Editor: Mrs. Kate Reither Writing Club Advisor: Mrs.Pam VanArsdale Visual Arts Instructor and Designer: Mrs. Lori Aumiller Cover Art: Dominc Le, senior Eleanor Bogue, senior
Rain by Karla Luna Tears pouring down like rain gently made throughout the day, longing for love, longing for truth. Tears pouring down like thunder Angry at what you did, I’m broken, I’m broken. Tears pouring down a stream A stream of hurt and betrayal You lied, you lied. Tears pouring down for truth Tell me the truth The betrayal you committed I’m still broken. Tears pouring down for broken love I waited You never came you left me broken, broken. Tears pouring down rejected You promised, you promised You never came You left me. Tears pouring down derelict ABANDONED You abandoned me You rejected me You REJECTED me. I’m RUINED. Tears pouring down for the finale I’m BROKEN ABANDONED REJECTED RUINED and so I shall stay. No more tears pouring down They’re GONE. Throat smothering down Venom This is your fault Your fault, your fault No more pain No more pain. Now YOU Tears pouring down like rain Tears pouring down like thunder Down the stream Looking for answers you know Searching for love you derelicted. Regretting broken promises Broken love BROKEN ABANDONED REJECTED RUINED. Kathleen Protz, senior
Anna Schneider, senior Ohio Governors Youth Art Exihibit State Award Winner
Gab Offei, junior
A Place Called Harlem by Chacelyn Riley Bearden’s artistic nothing like me, Lawerence shows slavery something I’ve never seen Douglas gives hope, Something everyone needs, These express what it means to be seen They close the doors, And push us back, Two steps forward and five steps back, Over, and over we’ve seen the same things Rewinding the clock, That’s how it seems Go to Harlem to create a new dream, The American one is not as it good seems, To hear what you love and see dances you seek, Seeing black people everywhere is the most comforting thing, They say the past can’t hurt you, Well that’s a lie It alway seems the past is looking me straight in the eye To Forgive and forget is what they want, but in Harlem the past is still holding on
Aliana Jacobs, senior Ohio Governors Youth Art Exihibit State Award Winner
Eleanor Bogue, senior
Another Greek Tragedy by Emma Young In the times of old A princess, young and fair Waited in her chambers For word of her brother’s welfare Two years had he been gone Sailing the sea for new land and treasure beyond Every passing day, the maiden’s anguish grew She feared he lost his way As the heros before him lost theirs too Three years more had now been spent And unrest in the kingdom grew The girl stuck to her rooms For her sorrow made her blue But fear not my dear readers Good news is yet to come As one day A messenger rushed in the room His face was unfamiliar, but How was the princess to know who he was? Her foot hadn’t touched the hall in five years But her doubt fell away as Lo and behold! Her brother was home! You can imagine the sight of her Tumbling limbs in a flowing dress Dashing through the marble halls To greet her brother After five long years As she reached the stairs An archer stepped out of his shadowy Ali An arrow flew into her heart Silencing the heir Who had not known her brother had been slain
Tayior Dreska, junior
Molly Teets, senior Scholastics Art and Writing Awards Silver Key Award Winner Sarah Seidu, freshman
Molly Teets, senior
Second Best by Cassadi Dile The grass is always greener on the other side they say But they don’t see the way I see grass everyday. That grass that grows over the edge of the sidewalk, Is the same one that cuts you off when you need to talk. How am I supposed to feel when there’s no more room? For even the softest flowers get to bloom. How am I supposed to feel when there’s no more room for air in my chest? For even the softest flowers were better than second best. Abby Bechtel, senior
Eleanor Bogue, senior
Dominic Le, senior
Completed by Cassadi Dile The feeling of happiness isn’t one that stays, It leaves and fades in all the wrong ways. When i met you I knew I was happy, But now that you’re gone I’m more or less sappy. It’s hard to find happiness in the places you’re not, At least for the longest time that’s what I thought. I thought it was you who created my smile, But then I realized it’s been gone for a while. You left me alone, unknown, it was obviously shown. You weren’t necessarily the piece that I needed, Just the piece that made me feel completed. Abby Bechtel, senior
Emma Doone, senior
The distant knock by Thomas Sorgini I heard a knock at the basement door, it was like a bats flap i almost didn’t hear it. The day it happened there was a eerie air in the room like i woke up in a fridge, i wanted to question it but a part of me just didn’t want to. I heard it again which left me confused, i touched the door which in return it screamed like a banshee, “i really need to fix those hinges” i sighed. I then crept down the stair to see if maybe it was a animal like a racoon taking refuge, each step like a beached whale. The more i crept down louder the soft knocking became, “what is that” i whispered, as i reached the basement floor i looked to the window as i heard the light wind whisper through the open window. I crept quieter than the wind around me, but I could almost hear wet dripping coming from the corner. I look back to the door I came from almost feeling like its getting further with each blink, the closer I get the dripping sound it reminded me of a distant waterfall, i felt at peace. The moment I got to the corner I felt the cold, alone feeling that brings me to my past where I almost drowned. I feel so cold thats when I remembered the day I died; “its my birthday today will you celebrate it with me?” I ask as im dripping with water in the corner of the basement of the house i drowned in.
Kathleen Protz, senior
Catie Miller, junior
Adam Weithman, senior
The Rise and Fall of Humanity By Maria Jenkinson Nothingness is ever present The absence of anything is alluring The Big Bang, for a second, is blaring The clash of the cosmos is all consuming The Earth, in its adolescence Nothingness, the earth mourns The dawn of day is drawing Earth, on its eve, no longer empty The forests flourish in folly The world has been born Kat Dortmund, junior
Humanity follows The garden grows green and gold Human existence begins to harold Innovation increases incessantly The Earth, humanity hollows Humanity grows Cultivating their juvenile concrete jungle, Killing and cultivating for their keyless kingdoms Lexicons loudly lengthen, leaving less love Hatred and fear arose Humanity conquers Mountains move to monoliths of man’s creation Nomads navigate to seek new nations Opportunists overtake and oppress Nature, humanity squanders Humanity takes Power is purchased through the perishing of others The quickening of war quakes the earth Rage reaps the life of a ravaged world Humanity breaks Humanity destroys The sanctifying of the sacrilegious scourges the land Turning of the tides leads to thankless terror The undertaker is universal, yet the guilty go unpunished Earth is drained Humanity Falls Violence victoriously vanquishes virtue The world’s wanderers wreak havoc Humanity has taken advantage of a xenial world The Earth’s final call For humanity death is inherent The youth yearn for yesteryear The zenith of the world has been killed by zeal Nothingness is ever present
Gab Offei, junior Emma Doone, senior Ohio Governors Youth Art Exihibit Regional Award Winner
Maureen Turner, junior
Stephanie Griffin, senior
The Eye of the Storm By Maria Jenkinson I feel the ocean on my skin I see the walls closing in I stand in the darkness before the dawn Here I am a helpless pawn For I am in the eye of the storm From my high and peaceful perch I spy the rain scorching the earth The silence screams, ringing my ears Yet, I know the storm can’t touch me here Because I am in the eye of the storm As the winds slowly starts it’s advance I fall quickly from my trance The lightning strikes, then comes the thunder My peace is quickly torn asunder But I am in the eye of the storm My perch breaks with a snap and a crack I feel the storm begin to attack The whip of the wind The thrash of torrent I have entered the Storm The cyclone spins me round and round The world floods, it intends to drown The lightning lunges in an attempt to strike This seems surreal, nearly dreamlike I am in the Storm The ground falls and here I find The storm was only in my mind I take a breath, for now I know That I will find my way back home Away from the Storm I wake again in a world like no other The rains again begin to smother The winds beat and follow behind I, again, the storm does find For I am back in the eye of the storm Stephanie Griffin, senior
In These Rooms by Hunter Messmer Calmly i sit Waiting for it to hit The stress that we face from one little place The clock on the wall Causes everyone to fall In this hole of despair Feels like we’re going nowhere People lying on the floor In search of something more It’s time for things to change for this room to rearrange For me to find The space in my mind that’s free For me to step back and breathe These rooms full of desk Feels like I’m on a quest To survive Can someone just say take five Let us feel alive People lying on the floor In search of something more It’s time for things to change for this room to rearrange For me to find The space in my mind that’s free For me to step back and breathe This building of lies Saying they want us to thrive But the pain in their eyes They’re petrified People lying on the floor In search of something more It’s time for things to change for this room to rearrange For me to find The space in my mind that’s free For me to step back and breathe Listen to their cry’s Instead of telling them goodbye Let them know they are seen Won’t you Help them be clean It’s time for us to shine No longer are we blind Taylor Dreska, junior Scholastics Art and Writing Awards Honorable Mention
Aliana Jacobs, senior
Dominic Le, senior
Verisimilitude by Madison Butler 6 syllables. An unusual word not many people use. A wolf in sheep’s clothing that comes to mind Mostly seen in dreams; intertwined. Verisimilitude. A word to describe what dreams feel like. Real or fake; asleep or awake. Is this real, am I tough like carbon steel? Or am I soft and meek like an antique.. Open your eyes, look around you. Verisimilitude. Your face, your words, the sky-high birds.. It’s all beautiful and unique in its own way. But so are daydreams, small but what a wonder to behold. Happiness or fear whatever so near, It all fades away once your eyes open to the iridescent blue. Was it reality? Verisimilitude.
Hailey Balik, senior
Addie Stonis, junior
Lydia Ratinaud, junior
Abby Bechtel, senior Scholastics Art and Writing Awards Silver Key Award Winner
Dominic Le, senior
Thank you to retired creative writing teacher Mr. Bill Kerwin whose vision created the EQUUS magazine over 20 years ago.