The Gleaner PDF
Preview The Gleaner
Don’t Let Go Michelle Welliver (front cover) The Gleaner is a theme-based literary journal edited by the undergraduate students at Delaware Valley University. We showcase all forms of written work as well as artwork and photography pieces. This year’s theme is Now and Then. From time to time... Table of Contents Phases of You • Memories I Wish I H ad • Let Them Fall 6 7 8 “eu” (good) “thanatos” (death) • 10 Out of 10 • Thank the Sun 10 13 20 My Father’s Legacy • Hiraeth • Drastic Measures 22 24 25 Somersault of Stars • Times to Remember 26 27 Reflections • Blue Stairs 28 28 Change • Remington 29 30 Spoon • Wise Eye 30 31 Barn • Kiss 31 32 Don’t Let Go • Love Lasts 32 33 The Wild West • Chain • Fresh 34 34 35 Metamorphosis • The Castle • Time Moves On 35 36 36 Majestic • Wet Bill • The Lighthouse 37 38 39 The Marriage Hand • Resolved 40 43 Stone Tape Theory • Finding Solace in Bird Watching 44 46 Ocean • The Bookshop 49 50 The Beachside Balloon Emporium • Cheeks of Face 52 56 10.27.21 • Don’t Let Go 58 59 Staff • Colophon • Acknowledgements 61 62 63 Phases of You By Emma Bittman How beautiful it is, To know that I have loved a younger you. A version of you that no one else will get the pleasure to meet… Perhaps this is something we can share. A moment in time forever held in suspension within my mind. Like a silhouette across the back wall, You will soon become the shadow of a man I once knew- A figment of a previous life we once shared. But life will go on. And I know that if we do ever meet again, You will be in a different phase A person I no longer know. But I am sure that I could still pick your laugh out of a sea of raised clamor. Like a ship traversing, You will soon find a new journey to follow… Even if it is not ours. So while I wade in the water, looking for the next journey of my own, I find comfort in knowing that even if we never meet again, And even if the fire behind your skin no longer burns… There is a version of you only I loved, And a version of me… only you loved too. 6 Memories I Wish IHad B y K al io p e Vaporakis, ‘19; MBA, ‘21 From then I have two memories of you. I’ve met you in stories and photos. I couldn’t know you when I had the chance to. I wish you could have watched me grow. I’ve met you through stories and photos. Would you have called my name in the endearing way? I wish you could have watched me grow. Would you have still moved away? Would you have called my name in the endearing way? Seeing me now would you be proud? Would you have still moved away? What I wouldn’t give to see you now. Seeing me now would you be proud? If you were here what things would we do? What I wouldn’t give to see you now. I wish I had more memories of you. 7 Let Them Fall By Katt Bott They’re supposed to fall. A leaf cannot cling to a tree for its seemingly, everlasting life. The tree will grow and learn to stand tall. Its branches will bend so the sun can shine its light and nourish a tree with its basic needs, but still, no noticeable growth will take place over night. It will lose its leaves, to the changing seasons and fall breeze. When winter comes, in the snow, strong trees are the ones who know that, soon, they will grow. Even in the harshest conditions, they’re grounded. They know they will not freeze and soon their leaves will come back, fuller and greener than the months before. To the newer trees, who doubt they’ll get new leaves, the arrival of spring leaves them astounded. Sometimes, I feel like a newer tree. When I start to lose my leaves, I forget that they always come back. Still, I grieve and think of my leaves as an everlasting part of me. I fail to acknowledge what I cannot show. Forgetting that I produce oxygen-- even in the snow. Forgetting that my existence-- is what helps people to breath. Forgetting that what cannot be seen-- are the most valuable parts of me. As a person, and not a tree, grounding myself is more tasking. I’m not physically in the ground, and I constantly must be around people that are always asking me to show them the old me, when I feel lost and cannot give them what they typically see. I’ve been uprooted from my home and all I’ve ever known, making it extremely difficult to see that without this, I never would have grown. Losing my leaves is the experience of loss. Loss of connections, loss of direction and loss of safety within conformity. Losing my safe places, the ability to compete. I constantly played sports because I only identified as an athlete. Losing my peace of mind, moving from home, forced to adapt to the things I’ve never known. It’s a scary place to be when you don’t recognize everything that you see. It’s difficult to find comfort when you feel as though you’ve lost yourself in society, and that makes it hard to gain a new perception of reality. Notice how I said gain? Suggesting growth at a time of loss. It’s a beautiful way to perceive dismay. Knowing that initial loss is not the end. Knowing that new experiences will lead to new leaves. I would imagine a tree that could run would flee during the snow. I’m sure that at the earliest signs of the changing seasons, some would just get up and go. The newer trees, at least, They don’t realize that change is only foreshadowing all that they will gain. Thicker trunks, brighter leaves and taller, they’ll grow. Creating more homes for plenty of animals. The older trees are wise, and they show this with their size. They’ve been around much longer than the new trees, who can’t see their life purpose past their leaves. 8
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