My Cardboard Balcony

Wow, it's been quite a week. My first week of work with AmeriCorps, to be specific. Honestly, I'm pretty worn out from nine-hour days, so I'm just going to cut to the chase: The literacy program has not started yet, so I got to spend time with kindergarteners. Yep, that's right. The kindergarteners who are so adorable yet so wacky at the same time. It was such a tremendous shift of environment compared to my other teaching experiences, because as a kindergarten teacher, you work from an entirely different level. I gotta say, though, it was fun and fulfilling. Next week, it'll be time to support the second grade teachers at my assigned school. I'll be creating lesson plans for the literacy program, and I've already started collecting books for the year to do for read-alouds and discussions. This GIRLSmart program is extremely intense and a bit overwhelming, but I'm not afraid. Stressed, maybe, but not afraid. And I'm definitely enthusiastic about ...

Moira by Belinda Roddie Out in autumn fields where the wheat is summer gold Catching butterflies in hopes of never growing old Every hue and pattern gives them all a different name The children hope by this, their lives will never be the same And when the glass jars shatter, all the colors fade to sky While in a separate entity beneath Apollo’s eye His bow is arched so proudly, at his love the arrows soar But thus she fades into the ocean, swallowed by the foam The air is heavy like a cloak upon a traveler’s brow Alone, he waits for destiny to make another call His name given in legend makes him raconteur and bard But acting like the butterflies, that too will he discard And on the water lies a dream that begs that it be saved Before it like Pandora’s hope dies in a shallow grave And voices raised will signify the time to help has passed And crescent brings the spinning world to pleasant peace at last Every wind that picks up here goes directly to the North Where shadows of our ...

Simon was far too dehydrated to keep walking. His canteen was more than just dry - its inners were practically turned to bone, lifeless material with no marrow to suck. He stopped at the nearest yield sign and propped himself against the thin metal beam, closing his aching eyes. There were still two miles left to go before he hit town.

I Thank My Third Grade Teacher by Belinda Roddie I thank my third grade teacher, who inspired me to pick up a pen and start to write. I thank the public servants who have been there for me every day and every night. I thank my peers and professors who stood beside me when I battled through my youth. I thank my family who never would abandon me when worry took its root. I thank the doctors, nurses, soldiers, clerks, bus drivers, those who put their lives on hold to see that people like me can succeed and spark the flames that reignite my goals. And any politician who proclaims that I did it on my own is insane.

Oh my darlings, drink sweet lemonade under the porch lights and count moths all night. See how many of them dazzle silver or are milky brown under velvet skies. I would love to see you once again smiling as the winter comes and we drink hot cocoa. But for now, the moon hangs in a warm pocket of the summer evening while we kick our shoes off and the stars are braces for our exposed teeth and we cuddle.

Chocolate Winter by Belinda Roddie December bought me a frosty at Wendy's, with his scarf all bunched up around his ears. The ice cream, while delicious, tightened my jaw and iced up my innards in an uncomfortable blizzard grip. December noticed that I was very cold, so he took my hand (chilling it with his fingers) and led me down long streets to his cabin. There were eleven of his friends, some sleeping, others playing chess, others bundled up by the fire complaining of the lost heat and summer chokeholds. He sat me down at a small table and stirred a pack of powder into a mug - the best he could do in regards to hot cocoa, but with toasted marshmallows it meant more to me than the winter man could ever think it was.

They say I'll find salvation when I atone for my sins. They say I'll find salvation when my life with Christ begins. They say I'll find salvation when I finally see the truth. They say I'll find salvation even when I've lost my youth. They twirl around their crosses and they pat me on the head, and they tell me Hell's no place to go when at long last I'm dead. But if salvation comes and asks me to then hate myself, then I'd rather be lost from God than be somebody else.