World Issues - 9th grade Plurilingual Creative Writing Anthology

World Issues

9th Grade Plurilingual Creative Writing Anthology

The Project: For most of the year, the students have been writing creative, fiction texts that
have been compiled for this anthology on the subject of “World Issues,” which is the theme they
choose as a 9th grade class. They were asked to create one short story and one poem, and they
were expected to write their creative pieces in at least two different languages. Many students
went beyond the expectation and chose to write their poems in two different languages and then

wrote their short story in a third language! This project is a culmination of the students’ hard
work, creativity, and plurilingual capacity. The subjects each student chose were relevant, yet
difficult subjects that have plagued our contemporary society. Please join me in congratulating

them on their outstanding work and enjoy your reading!
~Ms.Erigio

World Issues

9th Grade Plurilingual Creative Writing Anthology

The Project: For most of the year, the students have been writing creative, fiction texts that
have been compiled for this anthology on the subject of “World Issues,” which is the theme they
chose as a 9th grade class. They were asked to create one short story and one poem, and they
were expected to write their creative pieces in at least two different languages. Many students
went beyond the expectation and chose to write their poems in two different languages and then

wrote their short story in a third language! This project is a culmination of the students’ hard
work, creativity, and plurilingual capacity. The subjects each student chose were relevant, yet
difficult subjects that have plagued our contemporary society. Please join me in congratulating

them on their outstanding work and enjoy your reading!
~Ms.Erigio

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World Issues
9th Grade Plurilingual Creative Writing Anthology
Copyright © 2020 Le Lycée Français de San Francisco.

Organized and Edited by Samantha Erigio.
Front Cover Artwork by Kimberly Sobrevilla.

All rights reserved.

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Table of Contents
9th Grade Plurilingual Creative Writing Anthology

Environment ............................................................................................................................................................................ 6
“Cambiamento climatico” by Giorgio Antiglio ....................................................................................................................... 7
“Epopée Plastique” by Madeleine de Belloy de Saint Lienard ........................................................................................ 8
“A Freshly Baked Plan” by Juliette Brown ............................................................................................................................. 10
“Feu de forêt” by Jonas Attia ......................................................................................................................................................... 12
“Pollution – Polución” by Noa Azoulay ................................................................................................................................... 13
“Le changement climatique” by Sofie Chone ........................................................................................................................ 14
“We Can Find a Solution” by Jonas Attia ................................................................................................................................ 15
“Réchauffement climatique” by Giorgio Antiglio .............................................................................................................. 16
“Pollution in the Ocean” by Madeleine de Belloy de Saint Lienard .......................................................................... 17
“Environnement en détresse” by Kavi Fullerton .............................................................................................................. 18
“A Polar Bear’s Journey” by Lola Jones ................................................................................................................................... 19
“Pollution” by Hannah Chang ....................................................................................................................................................... 20
“Irrespirable” by Perri Green ....................................................................................................................................................... 22

Discrimination & Prejudices ............................................................................................................................................ 23
“Sans un mot” by Lola Jones .......................................................................................................................................................... 24
“Undrafted” by Antoine Bonin ...................................................................................................................................................... 25
“Racisme” by Alex Guillory ............................................................................................................................................................. 26
“Homophobia” by Chloe Lauzeral .............................................................................................................................................. 27
“Image de soi - Imagen del cuerpo” by Norah Rogers .................................................................................................... 29
“Falsely Accused” by Alex Guillory ............................................................................................................................................. 30

Immigration .......................................................................................................................................................................... 31
“Immigración” by Kimberly Sobrevilla ................................................................................................................................... 32
“Immigration” by Sofie Chone ...................................................................................................................................................... 33

Institutional Failure ............................................................................................................................................................ 36
“Les dirigeants” by Colin Cecil ...................................................................................................................................................... 37
“Who’s Gonna Believe You?” by Alexandra Hechimi ....................................................................................................... 38
“Government and Presidential Lies” by Aidann Gruwell ............................................................................................. 41
“The Life of a Foster Kid” by Perri Green ............................................................................................................................... 42

Global Impact ........................................................................................................................................................................ 44
“Le changement” by Michael Kalache ...................................................................................................................................... 45
“Organ Trafficking” by Ambre Dorey ....................................................................................................................................... 46
“Ils ne sont pas des virus” by Sarah Gabrys ......................................................................................................................... 47
“Tinnitus” by Nicolas Fawzi ........................................................................................................................................................... 48
“Guerre” by Maeve Mc Auley ......................................................................................................................................................... 50
“COVID-19” by Sarah Gabrys ........................................................................................................................................................ 51

Poverty .................................................................................................................................................................................... 52
“Mon choix, déjà décidé” by Adriana Hernandez .............................................................................................................. 53
“Sanctions, Poverty and Children” by Hanna Partovi .................................................................................................... 54
“Enfant d’ici et de là-bas” by Antoine Louvet ....................................................................................................................... 55

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“Homelessness” by Kimberly Sobrevilla ................................................................................................................................ 56
“Enfant de la Pauvreté” by Hanna Partovi ............................................................................................................................ 57
“Deseando una sola mirada” by Sophie Faustinelli ......................................................................................................... 58
“Where I belonged” by Adriana Hernandez ......................................................................................................................... 59
“Opinions” by Eva Krylov ................................................................................................................................................................ 60
Animal Abuse & Cruelty ..................................................................................................................................................... 61
“La maltraitance des animaux” by Nicole Johnson ........................................................................................................... 62
“Bonjour, je m’appelle…” by Aidann Gruwell ...................................................................................................................... 63
“Animal Abuse” by Nicole Johnson ............................................................................................................................................. 64
Sexual Abuse ......................................................................................................................................................................... 66
“A Trip to Regret” by Elizabeth Golster ................................................................................................................................... 67
“Abandonne” by Alexandra Hechimi ........................................................................................................................................ 70
“Human trafficking” by Keira Kooy ........................................................................................................................................... 74
“Viol” by Chloe Lauzeral .................................................................................................................................................................. 76
“Sexual Assault” by Eden Patron ................................................................................................................................................ 77
“Merci Vanessa” by Dayne Kovatchev ...................................................................................................................................... 78
“Maria” by Kavi Fullerton ............................................................................................................................................................... 80
“Le harcèlement sexuel” by Eden Patron .............................................................................................................................. 81
“Sexual Assault” by Lucie Plais .................................................................................................................................................... 82
“Trafic d'êtres humains” by Ambre Dorey ............................................................................................................................ 83
“Sexual Harassment” by Maguelone Ribo ............................................................................................................................. 85
Child Abuse ............................................................................................................................................................................ 86
“La maltraitance des enfants” by Luc Chone ........................................................................................................................ 87
“Children with Bruises, a Fate No One Chooses” by Nadia Rouag ........................................................................... 88
“Maltraitance physique” by Elizabeth Golster .................................................................................................................... 89
“Child Labor” by Antoine Louvet ................................................................................................................................................. 90
“Le Travail des enfants” by Keira Kooy .................................................................................................................................. 91
“Child Abuse” by Norah Rogers ................................................................................................................................................... 92
“Alcoolisme et Maltraitance” by Pierre Quereuil .............................................................................................................. 93
Psychological Distress & Violence ................................................................................................................................. 95
“Alice Blanchet devant un jury” by Nadia Rouag .............................................................................................................. 96
“Je n'arrive pas à comprendre” by Nicolas Fawzi ............................................................................................................. 97
“La Television” by Juliette Brown .............................................................................................................................................. 98
“Une fusillade à l’école” by Sophie Faustinelli .................................................................................................................... 99
“Addiction” by Pierre Quereuil ................................................................................................................................................. 100
Digital World ...................................................................................................................................................................... 101
“The Young Hacker” by Michael Kalache ............................................................................................................................ 102
“Sans issue?” by Noa Azoulay .................................................................................................................................................... 104
“The Second Chance” by Colin Cecil ....................................................................................................................................... 106
“Human...Kind” by Dayne Kovatchev ..................................................................................................................................... 107
“Social Media and Access to Water” by Maeve Mc Auley ............................................................................................ 108
Special Thanks ................................................................................................................................................................... 111

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Environment

6

“Cambiamento climatico”

by Giorgio Antiglio

“Mamma, Mamma !”, il bambino gridò, “Mamma vieni a vedere, la casa sta cadendo !”. La
mamma arrivò correndo. Vedi che la loro zona di caccia stava cadendo nell'acqua e disse: “
Non avere paura figlio mio, e normale, prendi i tuoi affari, partiamo all'alba verso il nord”. Ma il
suo bambino, affamato e stanco li disse che non ne poteva piu di camminare così tanto e di
cambiare casa quasi tutti i mesi. Sentendo questo, la sua mamma li rispose che non ci poteva
farne niente, che a causa di Loro erano in questo stato ma che tutto andrebbe bene. Il bambino,
sempre incerto dell’idea della sua mamma gli disse che partire a quest'ora e molto pericoloso
perché ci sono i cattivi che li mangeranno. Ma la mamma che lei conosceva gli pericoli di non
avere una zona di caccia gli rispose che era essenziale partire il più velocemente possibile. E
chosi, la mamma e il suo figlio partirono alla ricerca della loro nuova casa, la strada non sarà
semplice e la mamma lo sa, ma non hanno altra scelta se vogliono sopravvivere.

Sfortunatamente, allo stesso tempo, un gruppo di cacciatori partirono dalla loro casa alla ricerca
di pelle da vendere e di carne da mangiare. Erano tre, tutti armati fino ai denti e con l’unica
voglia essendo di ammazzare. Partirono all’alba verso il sud. Sfortunatamente, i cacciatori
stavano andando senza saperlo verso la famiglia. Dopo una lunga ora di cammino, la mamma
vide i cacciatori, stanca, assetata, affamata e con la paura di perdere il suo figlio, decido di
correre dietro un pezzo di ghiaccio sperando che non li avevano visti. Ma era troppo tardi, i
cacciatori, ridendo allegramente, cominciarono a correre dietro di loro. Una volta arrivati a una
trentina di metri della mamma, cominciarono a sparare, e in poco tempo, la mamma era morta.
Poi visse il turno del bambino, con la moto-a-neve, lo inseguirono e lo catturarono. Il più
giovane dei tre cacciatori parto a casa e imaglio il bambino. Entrambe, i dui altri toglievano la
pelle della mamma et la misero su la moto a giaco. Poco dopo, i cacciatori si ritrovarono tutti a
casa, il più giovane annuncio che aveva venduto il figlio impagliato a un buon prezzo a un
turista. I due altri gli dissero che avevano venduto la pelle della mamma a alto prezzo come un
tappeto et avevano fatto un cambia con un cuoco, scambiando la carne della mamma contro un
nuovo fucile. I tre cacciatori si misero a ridere e urlarono che il lavoro di cacciatore d'orso era
geniale.

7

“Epopée Plastique”

by Madeleine de Belloy de Saint Lienard

Pssht! Clang! Ploc! Plic! Crack! Que de vacarme le jour de
ma naissance, anniversaire partagé avec deux cent mille autres sacs
plastiques jumeaux produits ce jour-là dans l'usine Polymerium. À
peine ai-je le temps d'apercevoir la lumière du jour et l’éclairage
blafard des néons industriels que me voici entassé dans une boîte en
carton avec mes congénères.

Ce n’est que quelques jours plus tard que je peux enfin
respirer de nouveau. Je me retrouve pendu à deux tiges métalliques,
écoutant le bruit répétitif qui sonne à chaque fois qu’un aliment passe
en dessous du scanneur. Giselle m’attrape et m’ouvre d’un coup de poignet sec. Je sais qu’elle
s’appelle Giselle. C’est indiqué sur son badge Auchan qu’elle porte sur sa blouse. Enfin ouvert
et débarrassé de ma trainée de compagnons, je me remplis d’air avant que, malheur, Giselle
commence à me remplir d’aliments divers. Un par un entrent deux boîtes de pâtes, un morceau
de gruyère, trois pommes, de la nourriture pour chien, une courgette et des filets de cabillaud.
Je suis terriblement alourdi!
Pris en main par une autre dame qui me jette à l’arrière de sa voiture, je glisse à gauche
et à droite à chaque tournant. Malgré les cahots sur la route, je suis plein d’espoir. Cette famille
d'accueil m’a l’air bien gentille. À peine remis de mes émotions et vidé de mes provisions, je n’ai
pas le temps de souffler qu’un chien me saute dessus. Coincé, je sens ses crocs me
transpercer. Si ça continue, je vais ressembler à une passoire. Et dire que j’étais si fier de mon
étanchéité! Avant que je subisse davantage de dégâts, un petit enfant vient à mon secour. Elle
s’écrie: “Lâche, ma Fifi! Mange pas ça,” et me retire de cet enfer. Faux espoir, car quelques
instants après, elle m’écrabouille et me jette au fond d’un réceptacle sombre. Je suis coincé
entre des épluchures de carottes, des fleurs fanées et une carcasse de poulet. Qu’est-ce que
j’ai fait pour mériter ce traitement infâme? Soudainement, j'entends une voix presque familière
sans réussir à trouver d’où elle vient:

“Ne te plains mon petit, cette carcasse de poulet je la supporte depuis deux jours.
- Qui êtes-vous? D’où me parlez-vous?
- Je suis le sac poubelle. Je suis là, tout autour de toi.

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- Qu’allons nous devenir?
- J’ai entendu beaucoup d’histoires mais je te mentirais si je disais que je savais
répondre à cette question. On verra bien ensemble. Désormais, nos sorts sont liés."

Dans le noir de la poubelle, j’ai perdu compte du temps qui cours. Deux ou trois jours
ont passé. Je me sens emporté vers le haut. “Ca y est, mon petit, c’est parti.”, me murmure le
sac poubelle. Sans même que j’aie le temps de répondre, une bourrasque m’emporte dans les
airs, me séparant brusquement de mon nouvel ami. Mon vol ne dure pas longtemps et j'atterris
tout mouillé au fond d’un caniveau. Je suis en plastique: je ne crains pas l’eau, mais je ne peux
lutter contre le courant qui m’emporte dans cette terrible aventure aquatique, des jours durant, à
travers caniveaux, égouts et rivières.

Finalement, je me retrouve au grand large. Je ne sais pas quoi penser de ce monde
immense et inconnu, mais j’ai le temps de faire mes découvertes. Il me semble que je ne
sortirai jamais de cette mer. Je me familiarise avec mes environs. Je connais tous les poissons,
les algues et les crustacés qui y habitent. Jour après jour, je m'affaiblis et je me décompose
sous le regard perçant du soleil jusqu’à ce que je ne sois qu’un groupement de microplastiques.
Cette torture se termine dans la gueule d’un poisson vorace qui m'avale avec une bonne
gorgée de plancton. Je vous passe les détails de mon interminable périple. Il suffit de dire que
ce pauvre poisson n’avait pas eu le temps de me digérer avant de se retrouver emmêlé dans un
filet de pêcheur, hissé à bord d’un chalutier, ramené à terre, découpé en morceaux et emballé
sous cellophane. Fatigué par toutes ces aventures, je commence à regretter de ne pas être
biodégradable.

Tiré de mes rêveries par le bip bien familier de la caisse, j’ouvre un œil et aperçois une
femme avec un badge Auchan. Mais c’est Giselle, pardis! Avec un fort sentiment de déjà-vu, je
me retrouve dans un sac avec deux boîtes de pâtes, un morceau de gruyère, trois pommes, de
la nourriture pour chien et une courgette. Quelques heures plus tard, cuit à point, voilà que ceux
qui pensaient s'être débarrassés de moi il y a bien longtemps me dégustent en petit morceaux
en se disant qu’il faudra bien faire quelque chose pour éviter de noyer la planète sous tant de
déchets. C’est le comble!

9

“A Freshly Baked Plan”

by Juliette Brown

Sounds like crunch, munch, and gurgle were often heard when
my family and I were devouring our three course meals. We
pride ourselves in our possession of the rare delicacy that is
organically produced food, which is something considered to be
a myth or a dream for many people. A few sights and sensations
that I would kill for include the sweet aroma of freshly cut strawberries, the runny delicacy that is
the pierced yolk of a sunny side up egg, as well as the sticky residue of barbecue sauce that is
left all over my chubby cheeks after I bite into baby back ribs.
Tonight, we feast on salmon, quinoa, and asparagus! My cook came over to serve us
the luxurious meal out on our extensive terrace, which looked over the whole of Mexico. It was
relatively clear out, though the fumes and CO2 still swept away all of the stars that once painted
the night sky. I personally have never seen a real star, for it was said that they had all been
erased around 2052, and nowadays, in 2063, they were practically unheard of and most likely
forgotten. Who needs natural light though when artificial light is just as good, if not better? The
bulbs that were installed around the city illuminated everything brighter than a thousand stars
could ever do, making the compact apartments randomly laid out around the base of the
mountain on which my ornate mansion stood very visible.
According to Daddy, they live off of chemicals and man-made atrocities down there,
which are things I could never even look at let alone consume. I giggled, letting what he had told
me earlier sink in along with the salty and lemony taste of unprocessed fish. Those people have
probably never even heard of salmon or quinoa, just like how they have no idea what’s in store
for them. I didn’t either until this morning, when Daddy let me in on his little secret.
As we all know, the Earth’s population is getting out of hand. I mean, living on a planet
with near to eleven billion people is bound to cause certain complications, and I’m thankful for
being the legacy of those who will rid us of these impending world issues. Daddy explained to
me his plan of action, describing the ingenious method he and the government have put into
place in order to eliminate the excess amount of people without causing an outbreak of
unnecessary violence. In fact, it’s so brilliant that not even I had ever suspected a thing while
living under the same roof as the hero of humanity himself!

10

He started out by explaining to me basic knowledge that just about everyone knows; with
the increasing population at hand and less and less food to sustain such a large amount of
people, GMOs and pesticides have become our one and only solution. Of course, with our
elevated socioeconomic status, we have access to the little reserves of organic food that is left
(thank goodness). The lack of resources though plays an essential part in it all, for it alludes the
ignorant public into believing that those GMO injected meats and vegetables are what will keep
them from starving to death. Only, starving shouldn’t be what they’re worried about. Haha! I
almost feel pity for the poorer folk unable to afford natural food, for Daddy the extraordinary
along with the rest of the government are discretely targeting them with these intoxicated
abominations, which will eventually lead to their deaths.

Slowly but surely, each and every person at the bottom of my mountain will pass away
due to the poison found in their everyday meals, and the best part is that they will never have
seen it coming. One day in the near future, they’ll all just drop dead like flies. Daddy told me that
their loss is our gain, and that these people are all part of the crucial sacrifice that had to be
made for the better of mankind.

I mean, who am I to complain? Less people means more resources, and more resources
means more deliciously organic food like this enormous slice of red velvet cake the cook
brought out for dessert. Bon appetit!

11

“Feu de forêt”

by Jonas Attia

Je m’appelle John; je suis un koala et je vis en Australie, plus précisément à Perth. Je
trouve cet endroit magnifique mais depuis quelques mois vous le savez peut-être, il y a des
centaines d’incendies et 25 millions d’hectares brûlés dont mon habitat. Je vais donc vous
expliquer la nuit où j’ai tout perdu.

C'était le 7 décembre et je descendais de mon arbre comme tous les jours. Je fis ma
promenade matinale, cependant il y avait quelque chose d’anormal, c'était l’odeur de fumée. Je
pris mon courage à deux pattes et me mis en marche en direction de la fumée, cela ne prit pas
longtemps. A quelques mètres de là, je vis une ville entièrement brûlée. J’ai donc pu observer
des enfants pleurer; ce qui me brisa le coeur. Quelques heures plus tard, en raison d’une
extrême rapidité des feux, mon habitation partit en cendres. Attristé, je me réfugiais dans une
des parties encore préservée de la forêt de Kulnura.

Pendant des jours et des jours, je restait là affamé et assoiffé attendant la venue d’un
bon samaritain pour me sortir de cet enfer. J'aperçus à l’horizon des personnes habillées en
jaune et orange. Ma mère me racontait souvent des histoires sur les combattants du feu, ces
sauveurs. A ce moment, dans mes souvenirs, il faisait plus de 50 degrés celsius, le record du
pays. Je savais qu'à notre époque le changement climatique touchait le monde entier, et
bousculait la faune et la flore comme ce qu’il se passait à ce moment. Ces sauveurs venaient
donc vers moi. Le pompier m’attrapa par la taille et m’emmena directement dans son camion,
pendant que son collègue, lui, cherchait aux alentours pour voir s’il n’y avait pas d’autres
animaux en détresse. Mais après quelques minutes, l’endroit devenait irrespirable et donc le
pompier qui se nommait Terry, nous amena à la caserne la plus proche. En arrivant, les
pompiers me donnèrent de l’eau et me mouillèrent le dos étant à moitié brûlé. Apaisé, je
m’endormis.

Les jours passent et mes blessures se cicatrisent. Je m'étais ouvert le bras, brûlé le dos,
ma face et mes jambes étaient remplis d'égratignures. Aujourd’hui, je vais beaucoup mieux.
Malheureusement j’ai perdu mes muscles du bras et donc mes bras sont devenus inutiles.
Après avoir passé un an dans le zoo, Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, j’ai pu enfin retrouver mon
habitat naturel dans les arbres et dormir la plus grande partie de la journée. Je ne vais pas vous
mentir, mais avoir perdu l'utilité de mon bras gauche est la pire chose qui pouvait arriver à un
koala. Ces feux ont tué la plupart de mon espèce, plus de 25 000 koalas. Je suis à présent en
voie de disparition.

12

“Pollution – Polución”

by Noa Azoulay

You, who we see everyday and every night,
Tu, que haces dano a la planeta,

You, who changes the lives of people,
Tu, que cambia el ambiente,
You, that people see,

Tú que a la gente no le importa,
You, that brings dark colors to our world

Tu, que afecta a las personas,
You, who is everywhere we walk,

Tu, que estas en todas partes,
You, who invade the whole world,

Estoy escribiendo tu nombre,
The pollution.

13

“Le changement climatique”

by Sofie Chone

Le feu, ravageant les habitats des animaux.
Les flammes d’ambres, avalant la terre.
Tout autour de la forêt , des cendres.

Les arbres suspendues vers le sol, portant le poids du monde.
Les flammes, dévorant les animaux de la forêt forêt.
Les arbres noicis , comme les maisons aussi,
Ruinées et abandonnées fantômes fantômes.
Les voitures s'éloignant du feu,
Les visages des familles, effrayés.

Le changement climatique ruine la vie des animaux innocents et des familles.

14

“We Can Find a Solution”

by Jonas Attia

We don’t have lot of time, to stop our crime;
If we keep polluting, we will lose our natural resources.
We should reinforce our organic food, saving animals, we should conclude.
Stop using polluting cars, we will become stars.
Stop the deforestation, involve more in creation than destruction.
The melting of ice is killing our bear, we should just relax and take a beer.
Plant new trees, it’s saving our bees;
We must keep our river clean, for the future teens.
The next generation will care, if we have clean air.
The Earth is a treasure, no one can steal it
Recycling is an easy thing, sort items in a special bin;
With airplanes taking tours in the sky, birds can no more fly.
Stop the climate change, it will be our revenge,
The pollution makes fire, stop listening to those liars.
At every time we have a fight, stop destroying our site
It’s our foul if there is an oil spill, it’s time to pay the bill.
Stop using petrol, listen to my parole
Better use wind turbines, better use solar panels.
Atomic energy is destroying the ground, save the underground
Save the oceans, it’s a basic notion
Look at all this pollution; we can find a solution.

15

“Réchauffement climatique”

by Giorgio Antiglio

L’ours polaire
est un mammifère,
et non de la chaire.
Il hiberne en hiver
pour se cacher de l'atmosphère.
Il chasse sur la glace
qui fond, et cela le menace.
Il a grandement souffert,
a cause de mercenaires
qui ne devraient pas être ses adversaires
qui l’ont braconnés pendants des ères.

Les humains, qui le menacent
et lui donnent de l'angoisse,

en le chassant sans pitié
jusqu'au dernier.

16

“Pollution in the Ocean”

by Madeleine de Belloy de Saint Lienard

A fin slices the cold dark water
A dark eye struggles to make out shadowy shapes
White leathery prey flits about just out of reach
A practiced lunge and the fin makes contact
Yet, something's not quite right
The predator is the prey and the prey is the predator
The white creature fights back
Wraps its long tendrils around its unsuspecting prey
The old animal, suffocating on this man made horror
Dies a thrashing death
The word "Safeway” stretched across his chest
A bag thrown away carelessly after a brief purchase
He dies like so many others in a sea burdened with a hundred million tons
He doesn't know what hit him
But we do
And we can stop it
And we must

17

“Environnement en détresse”

by Kavi Fullerton

Autour du monde on trouve la pollution
Dans les montagnes, dans les oceans,
Dans les plaines, et dans nos belles villes.
Le nombre de déchets est plus que cent mille.
Les poisson et les oiseaux,
Mangent assez de plastique pour devenir gros.
ils coulent dans la mer; ils tombent de l’air.
Leurs corps sont froids comme du fer.
Le soleil est enveloppé dans une couverture de fumée
Les usines créent un nombre incalculable d'animaux tué
Et sans arrêt, l’on pompe du carburant
Juste pour mettre quelques véhicules en mouvement.
On doit mettre fin à cette pollution.
On doit passer à l’action
Pour arrêter toutes ces usines malicieuses
L'environnement, les propriétaires des usines le respectent peu.

18

“A Polar Bear’s Journey”

by Lola Jones

Water, it’s everywhere. It's so cold in these arctic waters, yet I can’t seem to find ice. I’ve
been swimming for hours, but I can't give up. My paws are aching, and my head is spinning. My
white fur is drenched in salt water and I can't bear the added weight, but I must go on. I have
been swimming for two days now, but everything is still the same; water as far as my eyes can
see.

Out of nowhere, a sudden wind comes out and drags me in the other direction. Giant
waves form, crash over me, and pull me under. I can only hold my breath for so long; I need air.
My body is being pulled in every direction and I feel pain running through me; it is unbearable
and I'm quickly losing air. My body slowly starts to become numb and everything is going dark.
Is this the end?

Where am I? I hear the small waves crashing on the shore. Finally, I am on land or is it?
The yellow surface is soft, but not like snow. I open my mouth to take a deep breath, but instead
I get a mouthful of tiny little rocks. This new environment is like something out of this world. The
sun is beaming on my thick coat of fur, and I'm heating up quickly. The heat is intolerable. A
short distance away from me, plants slowly sway in the suttle wing. I have never seen anything
like them.

I start to see the tall plants rustle as if something big was coming towards me. I struggle
to get up, but eventually I do. It starts getting closer and closer until it slowly walks out of the
bushes. The mysterious creature standing in front of me is on two legs and points a weirdly
shaped stick at me. I slowly backed away without the thought that I was backing up into a
corner. I only had two options; either go back in the water and swim or charge toward the
creature and hopefully get away. I'm too exhausted to swim any longer, I must face him. I gather
up all my courage, and start screaming and charging towards him. He doesn't even move. All he
does is pull on his weird stick, and a giant “BOOM” comes out of it. Shortly after, I feel a sharp
paint on my torso and fall over. There is blood everywhere and everything starts to go black
again, but not like the last time. This time I really think this might be the end of the line.
Struggling to keep my eyes open, I see the creature slowly walk towards me with a grin on his
face. He has a quilt on his shoulders with a multitude of different types of fur woven into it. My
best guess is that my fur will be added to this item. I try to fight back but the darkness suffocates
me, and I will never see the light again.

19

“Pollution”

by Hannah Chang

Il y a de la pollution autour du monde
Nous essayons d'aider chaque seconde
Réchauffer votre nourriture d'une façon différente
Au lieu d'utiliser, tous les jours, un micro-ondes
La grande zone de déchets du Pacifique
1,6 million de kilomètres carrés, c’est l'opposé de magnifique
Nous sommes tous coupables, nous avons tous participé
Il y a toutes sortes de plastiques différents, ce n'est pas spécifique
Les êtres vivants dans l'océan
Qui sont tous, probablement, innocents
Avalent les petites particules de plastiques
À la recherche de nourriture, juste en passant
La pollution de l’air et tout autour de la terre
Nous devons proteger la nature, notre mère

20

“The Oceans”

by Elise Schavsinski

The water looks beautiful,
Clear, warm, calming
But as you look closely,
There is more plastic than water
More pollution than water

The whales,
The dolphins,
The fish,
And more sea animals,
Does society think about animals?

It used to be so beautiful,
Clear, warm, calming
But as you look closely,
There is more plastic than water
More pollution than fish

The plastic,
The petrol,
The metal,
Affect our oceans
And hide the water

The oceans used to be so beautiful,
Clear, warm, calming
But as you look closely,
There is more plastic than water
More pollution than surfers.

21

“Irrespirable”

by Perri Green

En sortant de ma maison je vois du gris
En regardant de ma fenêtre je vois du gris

En sortant dans la cour je vois du gris
En regardant de mon avion je vois du gris
Quand je respire l’air toxique je m'étouffe
Quand je bois mon eau grise je m'étouffe
Quand je traverse la brume palpable je m'étouffe

Quand je vois la pollution j'ai honte

22

Discrimination & Prejudices

23

“Sans un mot”

by Lola Jones

Je vois les lumières bleues et rouges derrière ma voiture
Je m’arrête
J’ai peur que quelque chose de mal se passe
A cause de la couleur de ma peau
Il sort de sa voiture
Reste calme
“Permis et Papiers”
J’obéis, les mains tremblantes
Avec mon cœur qui bat
J’aimerais demander pourquoi
Mais je n'ose pas
“Vous rouliez un peu vite”
J’aimerais argumenter
Je n’allais pas plus vite que les voitures à côté
Mais cet situation me rend inconfortable
Je veux juste m’en échapper
Quand il revient de sa voiture
Il me rend mes papiers
Sans explication
Sans excuse
Sans un mot.

24

“Undrafted”

by Antoine Bonin

They looked at me
They frowned upon me

But they loved me
He was great, Jeremy
Lin, playmaking guard
He would play so hard

He went undrafted,
How many points did he average?

It was 15 points . . .

25

“Racisme”

by Alex Guillory

Il ne peut plus boire
Parce qu’il est noir
Il ne peut plus faire de pique-nique
Car sa famille vient d’afrique
Il ne peut plus vivre
À cause du racisme

26

“Homophobia”

by Chloe Lauzeral

I had just started my senior year of high school. I already couldn’t wait for the
year to be over. I hated going to school. I always did. Ever since preschool, I would get
made fun of because I was different. I didn’t like sports. I never did. While other sons
were outside playing catch with their fathers, I was inside transcribing music. That’s one
thing I always loved: Music. Whenever I visited my grandma in California, I would ask
her to teach me to play the piano. I wasn’t allowed to play instruments back home in
Indiana;, my father always said they weren’t manly enough. My mother would have let
me play if she was still alive. The death of my mother caused a great deal of harm to my
entire family, but mostly my father. He hasn’t been a day sober since.

As I grew up, I quickly understood that being myself wasn’t good enough for the
people around me. I slowly stopped talking to anyone. I didn’t like to make myself
noticeable in fear that I would get made fun of. So, slowly but surely, the few friends I
had, started to disappear. I went into my sophomore year with no one and that was
okay with me. Pretty soon though, people started noticing me but in all of the wrong
ways. One time, I had stayed at school until very late to study because the school
library was the only quiet place in town that didn’t close at 6 pm. It was around ten-thirty
at night and I was biking home. All of a sudden, I feel a rock get thrown to the back of
my head. It disoriented me so much that I fell off my bike. I turn around to see four boys;
oOne was very tall and had a mullet, two of them were siblings that seemed identical,
and the last one was a small young boy. He seemed to be around ten years old.

“What are you doing out here faggot,” said the tallest one, “We don’t need
any fairies in this town”.

I tried to say something, anything, but no words came out of my mouth. All of a sudden,
one of the twins kicked me right in the face. My nose started bleeding. They all smiled
as if they took pleasure in beating me up. Then, all of them except for the small one
started kicking me and punching me as the little one just chanted in the back “hit him in

27

his fucking face”. My vision started to blur and I felt like I had lost control over my entire
body. All I remember after that was them spitting on me and running off.

The first day of senior year. “One more year to go. You got this,” I thought to
myself walking into my first class. I usually sat in the back of the classroom alone. I was
the first one there that morning so I put on my headphones and waited for other people
to arrive. I must have waited for half an hour before the entire class was there. Once the
teacher walked in, I took off my headphones. He started the roll call: “Aiden?” “Here”
“Emily?” “Here” “Bill-”, he was cut off by someone bursting through the door, “I’m sorry
I’m late!”. My professor seemed confused as did most of the class, “and you are…?”
asked Mr. Bucoli, “Adrien Micheal. I-I’m new here” he replied. “Well then Adrien
Micheal, take a seat.” To my surprise, he walked past all of the empty chairs in the front
and he sat right next to me. He was tall and wore a button-up shirt that was fastened all
the way to the top. Underneath, he had a turtleneck on. He wore baggy straight Levi
jeans that he rolled up at the bottom and long socks with white high top Converse. As
he sat down, I made eye contact with him. He smiled at me. He smiled at me…

I was determined to know more about this boy. Over the following few weeks, we
started talking a lot more and becoming friends. I started noticing that he also got made
fun of for not being manly enough, only for him, he was actually gay. I found out that he
had moved to Indiana a few days before school started from Oregon. Since Oregon was
a pretty liberal state, he was accepted by almost everyone for his sexuality. When I
explained to him that Indiana was quite different, it was too late. Everybody already
knew he was gay. Since we were hanging out quite frequently, everyone made fun of
me even more than they already did. It didn’t bother me all that much though because at
least I had one friend.

28

“Image de soi - Imagen del cuerpo”

by Norah Rogers

C’est dur, tous les jours, de la voir
se embroma de mí con su parecer burlón.

Sans cesse elle me fait apercevoir
Que la perfección no es fácil, perdón
C’est difficile de regarder dans le miroir

Difícil complacer a la sociedad
Difficile de le faire sans décevoir
Difícil no pensar que es piedad
Que notre monde nous donne des émotions pareilles
Pero deje de impresionar la gente

29

“Falsely Accused”

by Alex Guillory

Clarence Javelli is a 16-year-old, high school junior African American boy who lives in a
high-class neighborhood in Minnesota. His family is the only black family in that community, and
it is a little bit of a struggle for him. Clarence is popular but a lot of kids don’t like him because of
his race. Clarence is the starting quarterback on his high school football team, and has over ten
division-one scholarships to play football at prestigious universities. He hopes to one day go
professional after university. His parents know the importance of education, but also want him to
do what he loves, which is playing football.

Tonight is the state championship that he has been impatiently waiting for. The elite
football player is really anxious for tonight. As he gets to school, a few white kids approach him
and say “a monkey like you would never be able to win the state championship as a
quarterback.” Clarence brushes it off, knowing that he has more of a future than them. He tells
them “Okay, you’ll see tonight.” As the final bell rings at 3 pm, Clarence goes straight to the
team bus. They go to the field for warm-ups. On the way there, Clarence just thinks about what
had happened that morning. He has experienced this before, but something is telling him that
it’s different this time.

The game starts and Clarence’s team takes an early lead. At the end of the game his
team wins. When they go back to the locker room, the team is celebrating. This is the moment
they had all been waiting for. They are planning to go out to town to celebrate their victory.
Clarence is going to go home and get ready first.

As he gets to the parking lot, he sees four big white guys approach him. He recognizes
them from this morning. Clarence tells them, “You shouldn’t be so quick to judge”, which makes
the boys furious. Clarence realizes he’s made a mistake because he is outnumbered. A witness
calls the police because the argument started to get heated. As the police get to the scene, they
are already fighting and they have Clarence on the ground. It takes three policemen to separate
them. As they break up the fight, they immediately think it was started by Clarence so they pin
him to a wall making his head bleed and beat him until he isn’t breathing anymore. The four
white boys run away without getting any consequences. Clarence is rushed to à hospital but it’s
too late. The horrific news is told to his family that night and they break into hysterics. It is a
mother’s worst nightmare.

A few days later Clarence’s mom loses the will to live because of the tragedy that had
happened to her baby, her son Clarence. She died peacefully that night.

30

Immigration

31

“Immigración”

by Kimberly Sobrevilla

Antes de hacer un juicio de su dolor
Antes de que hables mal de ellos
Debes dejar tu casa.
Tu familia
Tu infancia
Lo bueno y lo malo

Huyendo de la violencia y la pobreza
Vivir un día en incertidumbre

Y de no conocer dónde es tu próximo hogar

32

“Immigration”

by Sofie Chone

The sun hasn’t even risen yet. In the dead of night, I pack only the essentials: a lot of water, and
some clothes. My mother will pack the rest. We need to pack light; the 1,954-mile travel will not
be easy for any of us, especially Pedro, my little brother. Careful not to wake him, I walk around
our tiny flat that has only two rooms: one room for the kitchen, a restroom and one bedroom for
our family of four. We are leaving Mexico because it’s not safe for Pedro to grow up here; crime
and a local gang took over our neighborhood. We want Pedro to have a safe life outside of
Mexico and a good education. For me, I need to find a job that earns good money in the United
States, so we can get a house in a safe neighborhood.

“ Hey! It's time to go,” mom says.

I check our alarm clock: 1:30 AM. I wake up Pedro, and we walk silently into the pitch-black
neighborhood. We start walking to the freight train: thirty minutes. There's a network of freight
trains that runs the length of Mexico extending from Mexico’s southernmost border near
Guatemala all the way north to the United States. This journey will take a number of hours.
Already, Pedro is tired; he has asthma. We walk silently until we find a railroad. Equipped with
only one flashlight for a family of four, we begin our trek to the train, following the railroad we
found. Pedro starts bawling “I’m hungry! Why do we even have to leave home?”. Carefully
shushing him, mom doesn’t respond; she just looks at him with empty, tired eyes. We see a light
in the distance; Father picks up Pedro and we start running. My feet start hurting, and my pack
is too heavy, even though I packed light. The shining light keeps coming closer; Pedro’s shoe
falls off in the middle of the train tracks. I run to the shoe, pick it up, but I’m paralyzed with fear.
The train comes at full speed towards me, and I run back to my parents, but I realize that Father
had left on the train with Pedro. I look up at the train and see millions of other immigrants; their
eyes are shining with the dread they have for this perilous travel. I can’t find Pedro’s little face.
Panicked, I ran to mom. We both missed the train because of me. I look at my mom who is
terrified and says, “It’s not their fault, Pedro needs a good life. We’ll find them at the rest stop in
Ixtepec; we stay together no matter what happens.”

As we waited in the dead of the night, other immigrants joined us who were covered in dirt. The
next morning the train came back, and migrants piled on top of each other looking for a small

33

spot to sit. There was no space for us. The immigrants on the side of the train hold up their
hands to lift up the immigrants waiting to go on the train. A woman’s hand slips and she falls
next to the tracks leaving her hand between two cars on the train. The other immigrants watch
her with terror as her body gets dragged underneath the train. A man drops to his knees
sobbing; I assume he was her husband.

Our large group runs toward the train. “Jump!” a man yells. Some of us make it, but others
aren’t that lucky. Mostly children and their mothers were left behind. The woman’s husband is
still there, crying by the train tracks. I hope that he will be ok, and Pedro too.

Fifteen hours to the rest stop in Ixtepec, Mexico. We had already drunk all of our water in hopes
of lightening our bags. I look around me at thousands of immigrants who are hungry and thirsty
just like Mom and I. The sun’s setting, but it doesn’t seem as beautiful as I hoped it would be.
Hunger claws my insides; Mom has already fallen asleep in a corner squished between two
other people.

The next morning, the sun is already excruciatingly hot and with no water we risk dehydration.
We only have a little bit of water left. The fifteen hours have finally passed, yet the train doesn’t
slow as we pass the rest stop. We noticed people began jumping off the train, so Mom and I
followed. We look around for Pedro and Father. No hope; everybody we had asked said that
they hadn’t seen them. We start to travel to the next train to get to El Paso, Texas, and once at
the border we can find Pedro and Father there. We walk for hours on the railroad until we see
another train, we run-up to it and jump on. One man did not make it; he had the same fate as
the woman from the first train.

Time passes slowly as I watch the landscape quickly change with the aid of the lights from the
train. Many hours later, we get to the next rest stop. Mom hasn’t said a word since the
separation of Pedro and father. She probably thinks that it’s my fault that we got separated. The
train slows to a stop; we get off the train (no comma) and walk a few more hours to see the wall
looming in front of us. Border patrols are stationed in front of the wall, and when they see us
they bring us into the detention center to check our papers. They bring us to a waiting room and
ask us to take out any form of identification we have. It took hours. I watched as Mom pleaded
to the officers to ask around for Pedro and father, but they said it was against the rules. Pedro
walks slowly out of the door that led to the office with tears streaking his face. We run up to him
and hug him as hard as we can.

34

“What happened? Where is papa?” Mom asked. Pedro takes a deep breath and says, “They
sent him back to Mexico.” With stunned faces, Mom starts crying, “Will we ever see him again?”.
Pedro responds, “ Yes, he’s allowed to have two phone calls a week.” We get sent to the office
too. They tell us that we have to stay in the detention center with Pedro. The next week was a
blur; we tried to call father, but he never responded. We don’t know why. We passed the days
there uncertain if we would ever get out of the center and unsure if we would ever see or hear
our father’s voice again.

35

Institutional Failure

36

“Les dirigeants”

by Colin Cecil

Les forêts sont en flammes
Les vents se déchaînent
Les ouragans déciment

Les inondations engloutissent
Les tremblements de terre ébranlent
Les virus envahissent, les virus tuent

Les peuples s’entraident
Les communautés agissent, collaborent

On se nourrit de la solidarité
Nos gouvernements échouent
Les dirigeants trahissent leurs promesses

Les dirigeants déçoivent
Les intentions sont honorables

Les efforts sont mal placés
Les dirigeants déçoivent

37

“Who’s Gonna Believe You?”

by Alexandra Hechimi

Emma wrapped her quivering arms around her frail shell of a body and cowered under
the thin sheet that swallowed her diminutive frame. Shapes swarmed in front of her eyes,
battling for power, tearing each other apart just for her. No one else saw them. Her own private
show. Her own private Hell. Insects slinked along her pale skin, sinking their small teeth inside
of her, taunting her with their invisibility. She trembled – though she knew it was only her
imagination, she couldn't block out the voices. They called out from the other side. Coaxed her;
forced her to listen. They wanted her to come to them, to join them.

“I tried,” Emma whispered to them, “I’m sorry. I tried.”

“What was that?” the staff member wheeling her forward, a stout, middle-aged woman, asked
annoyedly. Emma shook her head violently and pressed her lips shut.

Don’t speak.
The woman told her to stand up, and Emma struggled to her feet with an unnatural

quiver. She gripped the edge of the wheelchair to stabilize herself, unable to do anything but fix
her eyes on the people in front of her. Three men in white uniforms stared, their eyes looking
down at her condescendingly; slightly to the right of them, a woman in the same uniform
watched Emma with a gaze that fused pity and disgust. From one of the men’s eye sockets, a
long, black snake slithered out and towards her. She thrashed backwards, colliding with the
chair and tumbling to the floor. The staff watched as she struggled back to her feet; none of
them moved an inch to help her. One of the men – his name tag read “Jason” – clutched her
forearm and yanked her forward towards a hallway. His brusque strides reverberated against
the linoleum floors that froze Emma’s feet through the paper socks she had been given. Jason
brought her to a room; the blank walls were padded and in the corner were two stiff beds. The
room was devoid of windows or any signs of life, but opposite of the beds was some sort of
abstract art. Purple, blue, and red shades swirled, melting together, and Emma averted her
eyes from the colors, not wanting to encourage her twisted mind.

38

“This is where you’ll be staying. Someone will come bring you food.” Jason spoke
expressionlessly, getting closer to her. Instinctively, Emma flinched away. As the man’s features
morphed into those of her father, Emma backed up like a trapped animal, feeling the wall
against her back. Jason approached her, raking his hand up the inside of her thigh.

I’ll tell.

Who’s gonna believe you?

He turned around and stalked out of the room, leaving Emma alone once again. She
shivered, feeling his imposing presence add on to the weight she had already been shouldering.
Before even an hour seemed to have passed, Jason returned, this time bringing a new patient
with him. It was another girl, a little older than Emma. He didn’t touch this one, however, he
simply led her forwards. The girl had a defiant look in her eyes; her eyeliner stained face
glowered at Emma as Jason turned a corner and left. The second Jason was out of sight, the
girl began examining the room. She approached the painting, checking the sharpness of the
frame’s edge and swore when she realized it had been dulled out. Emma soundlessly watched,
cowering as the girl tested the corners of the bed, followed by rough edges on the floor.

“What’s your problem?” the girl turned her focus towards Emma, glaring, “You deaf or
something?”

Don’t speak.

Emma didn’t say a word, shifting her gaze away from the girl and looking down.
Eventually, a somewhat recognizable staff member returned to bring the two girls’ dinner.

“What?” Emma’s roommate vociferated angrily, “We’re just supposed to eat here?”
“Settle down, Darla,” the woman’s calm words were released in a tone that underlined the
tediousness of having to deal with them, “How do you think we would handle you all if we had to
supervise hundreds of you at once? Jesus Christ! You all can be so unreasonable.” Emma
shrunk back at the woman’s cold words. The woman handed Darla two stacked meals, and
Darla threw one at Emma. She picked it up and opened it. Gripping the plastic fork, Emma
aimlessly stabbed at the gray chicken in her platter, not eating any of it. As the handler left,
Darla sat down on her bed and picked up the fork. Emma heard a dull snap behind her but
didn’t turn around; Darla walked up to the room door, hiding a snapped off shard of the fork in
her sleeve, and addressed her roommate:

39

“You better not tell.” Emma said nothing. The voices inside her persisted. Darla banged at the
door, asking to go to the bathroom. That had been the last Emma had heard of her roommate.

That evening, after the ward’s imposed curfew, Emma heard the door creak open from
her spot in the corner of the room. Crossing her fingers and attempting to not imagine the worst
case scenario, her fears were confirmed upon finding it to be Jason. She shivered. As she
watched his recognizable silhouette slither towards her in the darkness, she, once again,
visualized the hissing that danced around him. Cackling filled her ears and she buried her head
inside her arms, trying to block out the heinous and familiar sound. He walked up to her,
grinning as he reached his warped hands into her.
I’ll tell.
I’M GONNA TELL I’M GONNA TELL I AM GONNA TELL
Who’s gonna believe you?

40

“Government and Presidential Lies”

by Aidann Gruwell

Rambling through these endless halls,
Words echoing off the marble walls
Each syllable oozing out with such clarity
In a symphony of limitless self pity

Outside his window, crowds are brawling,
Yet he still feeds off the pain he’s causing
He lends his hand to those in need,
Only to guzzle the wealth they bleed.

With his promises that never stick,
This generation is left anemic.
Even as smog fills the air
The oceans rise?, he wouldn’t care.

He lies, and tells us not to panic
Yet behind our backs he still wreaks havoc.
He’s got the tele to feed our minds
But do you ever wonder what he has to hide?

For far too long we’ve stayed in the dark,
Been forced to listen in horror from afar
Let’s pull the curtains back,
There are many truths out there to unpack.

41

“The Life of a Foster Kid”

by Perri Green

I have always wanted to become something more than a kid who gets tossed around by
“families” who don’t want me. To become someone who matters, someone who is loved, and
now I have learned that I had nothing to complain about. Let me explain what happened to my
childhood and why I changed my mind about my life. I was born into a family that didn't have a
lot of money; my mom was a waitress and my dad, well, he wasn't around. When I got put into
the foster care system, they wanted to assure me that everything was going to be fine with my
new family and that life was going to go on, but they lied to me. My first family was the
Johnsons; at first, they seemed nice and charismatic and I thought I was going to have the
normal life I was promised. However, the Johnsons were biased; no matter what I did to show
them how grateful I was that they took me in, they always found the worst in me. My “ family”
never believed in me or respected me. As you may have assumed, the Johnsons and I didn't
work well together as a family, so I contacted foster care and I got reassigned.

My new family was the d'Amelio's; they were the sweetest. The dad’s name was Alex,
and he was an engineer. The mom was a stay-at-home mom with a son and a daughter who
had both left the house to go to college and now she was lonely and wanted to be able to
provide a better life for a foster kid. At first, I thought she was sweet and amazing. I had lived
with them for two and a half years; at that point, I was eight and a half, and I was already in
school. They sent me to a private school, and I was so happy and was making friends. Then,
everything changed. On my eighth birthday, she started pushing me above and beyond my
limits. I even tried to run away from this family because of the number of hours I had to spend
learning. Little did I know that running away from a family meant that you were sent to another.
So, therefore, the next night when they found me they decided to take me to the Brown family.
The Brown's house is where my life changed. For the first time, the mom actually cared about
me, she made sure I got the help I needed and was by my side the whole way. The dad never
pushed me too hard; he even sent me to a public school because he didn't want me to feel
pressured to be better than the rest.

Everything was working perfectly and quickly five years had passed. I was healthy and
happy; I was turning fourteen soon and my family was going to throw me a huge party because
it was an important year for them to see how much I had grown. The party was great. I
remember it as if it was yesterday, and it was the most fun I had ever had in my life.

42

That beautiful day was followed up with a horrible next day because my foster care
came to announce that they were bringing me to a new family. I was shocked! According to
them, the Browns were now too old to be able to take care of a foster child. We begged for me
to stay, but Foster Care didn't agree with us. I was set to leave that evening and I think it was
one of the most tragic events in my life. It was like a part of me was getting torn apart up until I
had to leave when that little bit of me was completely removed.

So, I then moved in with a young family with no kids. They were new parents that
looked nothing like the Browns and acted nothing like them, I felt lost. My new adoptive mother
was Rebecca Sean and my new dad was Jonathan Sean. They were sweet but not what I
wanted, and I simply desired to live with the Browns. They were in their late 60s, and I had at
least four more years until I could go to college, so I didn't really understand why I couldn't live
with them. I assumed the Sean's could provide just what the Browns were doing for me. So I
decided that the best thing to do right now was to just try as best I could to be understanding
and a nice daughter to the Sean family. I decided to seek help, not from a counselor or anyone
older than me, but from foster kids my age who hated their life right now. It turns out that there
are over 55,000 kids who are miserable in a foster home. That is when something clicked; my
life was amazing and I was lucky to have everything I needed and I had no reason to complain.

43

Global Impact

44

“Le changement”

by Michael Kalache

Quand je regarde autour de moi, je vois que le monde est gris,
J'entends tous les cris,
Je vois toutes les personnes qui se sont battues,
Je vois toutes les vies qui ont été perdues.
Le monde est en danger;
Nous devons changer.

J'essaie de comprendre pourquoi cela se produit.
Pourquoi, et à quel profit?
Personne ne devrait être victime de ces attaques.
Le simple fait d'y penser me rend malade.
Je ne sais pas pourquoi cela à commencé;
Nous devons changer.

Tous les jours il y a une nouvelle tragédie:
Un nouveau bâtiment a été détruit.
À travers tout cela, nous devons rester unis.
Il y a des familles qui veulent être réunies.
Je l’ai déjà dit mais je vais le répéter:
Nous devons changer!

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“Organ Trafficking”

by Ambre Dorey

These, essential to our survival,
By force, ripped out.

Our bodies, painful, sleepy
From various ingested products.

The Black Market,
Constantly growing
Due to a lack of donors
And increased necessity.
That's why a youth dies,
To save an elder about to perish.

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“Ils ne sont pas des virus”

by Sarah Gabrys

Je passe dans les rues,
Et je vois les regards des personnes vers eux,

Des regards de préjudice.
En Italie, au Canada, en Malaisie, et en Australie des accidents ont lieu.

Des personnes ont regardé un homme d’origine chinoise mourir,
Et ne l’ont pas aidé par peur d’avoir le virus.

Des personnes sont effrayées et veulent l’interdiction d’entrer
Dans certains pays pour les personnes chinoises.
Sur les réseaux sociaux,
Il les traitent comme s’ils étaient le virus,
Mais ce n’est pas une raison pour diaboliser
les Chinois.

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“Tinnitus”

by Nicolas Fawzi

A piercing, high-pitched ringing flooded my ears. My vision was blurry, perhaps because
of the blood and sweat covering my eyes, and I could not speak, think, nor register what had
happened. I had a splitting headache, yet the rest of my body was warm and anesthetized as if
it had fallen asleep. I lay on the dirt, unable to move, and attempted to recount my steps. As
hard as I tried, I could not bring myself to remember the events leading up to my current stateIf I
tried too hard to think, the headache would worsen and my thoughts would go blank.

Finally, after what felt like hours, I mustered the strength to bring my hands to my ears,
and I squeezed as hard as I could. I sealed my eyes shut and counted backwards from one
hundred. I wiped my face with my shirt and opened my eyes. I had regained most of my vision,
and while my headache slowly faded, the ringing stayed. I examined my body, taking inventory
of my limbs, hoping that everything was intact. My arms and legs were covered in dirt and
blood, and my right ankle was twisted in the opposite direction. Still dazed and numb, I turned
onto my hands and knees and observed my surroundings: rubble and bricks covered most of
the ground, buildings were in ruins, and mounds of dust and debris filled the empty spaces. Not
far from where I was laying , I spotted two walls that could serve as a temporary shelter.

I carefully crawled over to the walls and sat down with my back against the one that
faced the sun. I slowly began piecing together fragments of my memories of what had
happened before the incident; I remembered a few faces, a scream, and I recall running through
the streets. I failed to recollect the date or time, and I still lacked the knowledge of my exact
location. Most of the equipment I was carrying had either been damaged or lost, and I could
only assume the same for my partners.

I took a closer look at my injured ankle, holding it delicately in my hands. The foot was
limp, dangling from the bottom half of my leg, yet my ankle was still attached to the limb through
skin and flesh. I came to the conclusion that I had definitely broken something, and that it was
best to avoid applying weight onto my ankle until I received medical attention.

I laid my head back against the wall. The ringing in my ears had not relented, and the
pain gradually started to set in. I reached into my pocket in hope that the picture had survived.
Aside from a handful of small creases and a few stains, the picture had prevailed. I stared at my
wife: her beautiful smile, her blond hair, her forest green eyes, and her long red dress. My eyes
shifted to my son: his innocent, young face, free of any worries or responsibilities, looking up at

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the camera. Quickly, a flood of memories of my family and friends inundated my head. I looked
back at memories of my highschool years, my first job, my old roommates, my wife, my son, my
parents, and I dropped my head into my hands. I cried for the first time in years.

The pain had fully set in; each limb, bone and nerve was pulsing with a sharp,
unbearable pain. The ringing in my ears screamed and shrieked in my head. I had never felt
pain like this before. I remembered the advice my mother gave me:

One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven, ninety-six, ninety-five, ninety-four,
ninety-three, ninety-two, ninety-one…

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“Guerre”

by Maeve Mc Auley

Des frontières séparant nos vies, de celles de nos ennemis--
Tandis que les enfants jouent dans des ruines d’un hôpitaux
Après que le fer, tombaient comme de grandes gouttes d’eau,
À travers ces frontières de pierre affaiblit
Une tumulte envahit la plaine,
En ravageant les esprits des habitants
Mais une silence suit juste après, dans le sang
Tandis que tous s’allonge couverte de la haine
Le dieu habillé en noir
Suivi par des larmes infini et une nouvelle tombe,
Fait son chemin vers cette ville d’ombres
Et le dieu en noir réclame ces sujet, en laissant des mémoires
Ce qu’on appelle un cycle de vie,
Interrompu par une grande échange pour se venger
Cela fait apparaître un nouveau danger
Par le pouvoir dans les mains de nos ennemis.

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