Creative Writing

Reflected Through Us, the Memories of Them

Ignorant children, unknowing of the world ahead,
Surrounded by guiding hands.
They learn and fail, nauseated and broken,
But are again lifted to stand.

We plaster our cracks and repair ourselves,
Like mosaics of those we cherish,
With pieces of the people who helped us
And prepared us for the world’s wide width.

For even when we leave these halls,
And their lights dim a final time,
We find ourselves with heads held high
Carrying their knowledge by our side.

Young children entered this place,
Now young men and women leave.
But even as we exit the grounds,
We keep the memories received.
I’ll carry our teachings as proud
As the hands once carried me.

Shadowing what they showed,
Standing tall in unknown places,
And entering a world with new seeds sown,
But never once forgetting their faces.

It’s only through them that when the sun is held high,
Our lives reflect a great menagerie 
Of color and life on a well-trodden path
Held as dear as family.

Every hand is guided by delicate light
Provided by those with patience,
Who taught us what the world would be like
And chose to believe in us since.

So, in every action and every step,
With nothing but care and sincerity,
Reflected through us, the memories of them,
For a lifetime, I’ll carry them with me.

- Anna Isabella Mariano