politics nature and religion oh my

 

(I almost went swimming but realized I was alone and with my luck I would get caught on a rock or something and the lifeguard would drown and my life would end as an ironic joke so I took this instead)

 

Yikes, it’s been a hot minute hasn’t it?

With the blog being blocked by Assumption’s IT for the majority of the semester, I know  this site is like word porn, but it’s not actual porn okay??

I began using the gram more, but not as much as I would have liked. If we are being completely transparent, I fell in love…… with my poetry class hahaha you thought. This semester was a crazy blur, without my crazy roommate, please come home soon you Aussie Queen.

Became re-obsessed with Orientation if that is even possible through NODA, danced until dawn and won a sloth, started the clock late many times, redesigned the first year orientation with a special group of eight people, hustled and threw a couple of hail mary passes for agape but what else is new, skied some of the best pow if you will of my entire life, became a legal individual of sorts, learned that I can dance with the Irish but certainly cannot drink with them, saw one of my best friends run 26.2 miles in all the types of weather, and had some of the best times with the girls of 311, and watched in the comfort of my home and with my mom the class of 2019 graduate. Congratulations y’all did the thing!!!!!!

So the time I did spend writing was focused on crafting pieces for that course. And I will be honest as much as I do love stringing together a 500 to 800 word blog post, I love piecing together smaller things more. So to breath some life into this blog, here are two poems from my final for my poetry class.

 

sincerely,

emma

 

Notre Dame

The city of love’s heart has been broken

The world watched, jaws agape, unspoken

 

Clouds of smoke climbed towards the sky

As men pried at the roof and children started to cry

 

The famous flying buttresses of Paris crumbled

Our media flooded, and there was no room for mumbles

 

Fox posted the French serenading the wreck on their knees

The millennials commented back, in all caps, to save the Bees

 

As the rose colored glass cracked, the President pledged millions

My friend yelled out there is still no water in Michigan

 

As the sun set, the spire was engulfed in fearless flame

Generation Z voiced concerns of climate change

 

As the gold crucifix shone through every bluelight device

My professor claimed money for the poor should suffice

That children without shoes should benefit from Christs sacrifice

An eight hundred and fifty-six year old church is a fools paradise

 

And to my seven billion neighbors, I propose an idea

One that will please God and our dear mother Gaea

 

That we can save the honey and raise the money

That we can make the faucets of Flint safe to drink

That we can provide for our fellow brothers and sisters

That we can educate the children about their changing world

That we can rebuild and raise every cathedrals fallen roof

 

Seven billion heads, hearts and hands should be enough

We do not have to choose to save or rebuild just one

 

And as the cries crossed over the Seine at nightfall

Let us remember this blue and green mass is a home for all

 

E.L

 

 

upon sitting on the seawall at 9:36 pm on Good Friday

never been too fond of thick carpeting steep walls

and glances dripping with gossip across the pews

or creating complication for our own inner insecurities

 

but two rights, a bitch of a left and one legal u-turn

brings a beaten car and a bitter girl to her own alter

 

cracked sidewalks and a dented guard rail

painfully out of place next to the vast mass below

 

the ominous and overwhelming dark water can

turn the largest ego into a humbled soul

 

the twisting pit of fear is equally matched

with the inability to look away

 

the wondering of the mystery beneath the dark glass

followed by a small twinge to join the rushing rocks

 

to feel the piercing truth in my Sunday best

 

as the moon and the white caps play a silent symphony

while the resilient wind from the north creates an intermission

 

and the contemplative girl thought

we just need to go back to the beginning

 

as the stars above, shining authentically

as the sea below, crashing unapologetically

for the rain behind, falling fearlessly

 

the alters has already been built

the songs have already been written

 

we just need to go back to the beginning.

 

E.L