ISSUE #1: THE FINAL FRONTIER

ART AND PHOTOGRAPHY

        Shirah Abrahams
     Lara Jacobowitz

      JoJo Schachter 

           Shanee Gabbay
           Rebekah Katter
     Lara Jacobowitz

      JoJo Schachter 

      JoJo Schachter 

         POETRY

The Edge

By: Talia Berg  

 

I don’t think I can say that feeling of standing on the edge out loud.

It’s a lingering feeling

between life and death, dark and light.

Like you’re standing in front of a huge open field,

a million possibilities ahead,

and then all of a sudden, as you’re running, you realize it’s not

huge

or open,

and that you’re all too close to reaching the end.

And you try to keep running.

You pretend that you can keep running forever.

But really, you’ve been falling for a long time.

You’ve been in denial for a while, but you open your eyes.

And the only reason you open your eyes is because you’ve hit the ground.

The Stars:

By Ariella Weiss

 

I love everything about the stars:

Orion’s Belt and the Big Dipper

Constant; ever-present anchors

Aries, Sagittarius, and Leo

My friends of spring, summer and winter

Nut, the Egyptian mistress of the sky

She brought me closer to my father

An Ancient Egyptian historian of the what and why

I don’t understand why he of all people,

Who shares my love of the vastness around us

Would want me to stay safe at home

To accept stagnancy anywhere below the stratosphere

It’s not that he doesn’t understand the stars:

He just doesn’t understand me.

Has Winter Come?

By: Shirah Abrahams

 

I feel the wet, cold air seep into my skin.

Winter, I think, finally.

No lightning bugs or bees, just snow and sleet.

All I can think of is how fresh powder blankets the grass,

lingering until Spring crawls up its back.

For a moment I freeze.

Falling back to the ground I forget the sheet of snow is yet to come.

I quickly shut my eyes,

desperately hoping I will live to see the next snowfall.

Not Quite

By: Annabel Kermaier

 

A mist, hanging in the air

A halo, and a streetlamp.

A sidewalk, not quite straight

And not yet crooked.

 

Night is now or soon

A dome of clouds, far off.

A creeping feeling beckons

Waiting for you to be alone.

 

No creak of branching boughs

No rush of windy voices.

No sound emerging from the

Not-quite dark nor light

 

Not to be deterred

Nor turned away,

You continue into

The all-consuming night.

  SHORT STORIES 

Lost in Space

By: Mia Hahn

 

There is no deep breath to take in. No tangible star to grab. The breathless air swings around her. But the compact feeling leaves her with no voice to yell out. The cold air pierces through her veins, shatters her bones. Her weightless body is pulled without protection and she is exposed to the naked air. Blank sky fills with limited light to shine on her helpless body. She slowly dissolves into the stars. They all watch with dazzling eyes as she resists to leave. But alas, her body slips into floating waves as she is sprawled through the air. This was inevitable; her fate was predetermined, for it was written in the stars.

Space Thoughts

By: Allison Gellerstein

 

Today I feel like a mess. I am not necessarily a mess, though. Later today I will not feel like a mess.

All I have to do is make it through the next month.

There is hope for me yet.

But next month seems so far away. Even tomorrow is eons away, like I’d have to travel in light years just to get there in forever. I’d have to cross the galaxy to reach tomorrow an eternity away, and space monsters and asteroids are blocking my path.

My spaceship feels empty.

Time is frozen, I can’t see where I’m going, comets are flying at me too fast, I’m stuck waiting for a constellation shift. The stars aren’t aligned, my spaceship feels empty, my map is outdated. I’m just waiting to meet up with everyone else. I can’t remember where I’m supposed to go, can’t figure out what to do next, the controls are unfamiliar, I feel empty.  

I just need to take a breath. One breath, in and out, purposeful and controlled. One breath leads into another and suddenly I have made it a minute and the stars haven’t exploded. The next minute doesn’t seem as daunting now.

But this minute feels lonely, like I’m the only human breathing out here. Everything around me is in ruins and I can sense that the world is about to collapse. My spaceship is running out of fuel and I might not make it to tomorrow.

I close my eyes and count to ten. When I open them, my spaceship seems smaller than I remember. It’s only ten steps to the back. Ten steps seems manageable, like ten breaths. When I look out through my window, the cosmos seem to expand in front of my eyes but I don’t have to travel through it all at once.

Someday I will feel whole and right. I know that. Even on my own traveling unfamiliar territory, I will be able to trust my decisions. The fear I feel staring out my window at the stars will be eclipsed by that sureness I feel deep in my bones. That feeling might last a minute, or weeks or months. It might take time to get there. Someday I will feel whole and right, and I will be ready and prepared and eager for what’s to come. Today is the only thing in my way.

Today I feel like a mess. I am one week into my mission to catch up to the rest of my crew, but I still have three weeks left until I reach them. Each day has been a herculean battle on my own, but I have to make it three more weeks until I can share the weight I shoulder.

It seems like my ship is sinking. It carries the weight of each mistake I make and I wonder if it will be too much. No matter how often I course correct, it seems my trajectory is off. There is only so much I can take before I use up my mulligans and narrow misses.

But I know that I have piloted successful missions before, flown home in triumph, celebrated with my crew. It’s fine. I hum my favorite song, under my breath, despite being by myself. The controls seem easier to move, the commands easier to remember.

Today does not define me, or how our mission will turn out. While my struggles make it seem like the world is off its axis, I know that what I see are only distorted images being reflected in my window. Tomorrow the memory will fade and I won’t mind right now as much.

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