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Final Reflection
Science, which I consider to be the pursuit of knowledge for sake of understanding, has evolved very much over the centuries upon centuries of human evolution. As I’ve said in my previous reflection, prior to this course, I considered science to be rooted in theory and experimentation, based in objectivity. However, as this class has gone on, I’ve learned of the many historical contributions of ancient societies and the pre-Renaissance world, and in turn, have broadened my perspective on what constitutes science. Science doesn’t need to be objective, and in fact, as Cajete points out in his article on Native Science, subjectivity and emotion are key to a full understanding…
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Sick Day Food
When she leaves the ginger ale and the bowl of fried rice behind our door, I almost tell her she forgot to bring you yours, but like the smell of cooked sausage and broccoli we’d enjoy after a walk through the snow, it strikes me like blinding lightning, the growling of my stomach not unlike a cold rain that freezes once it touches the skin of my hands— scarred but too soft to be held, slipping through fingers like the grains of rice as you stir it in with the eggs and the carrots and the peas, garnishing it with green onions before you bring it over, asking me if…
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HIS 276 Midterm Reflection
Science has changed so much over the years of human civilization. Prior to this course, I thought of science the same way most people think of it: measurements, experiments, data, theories, etc. With the exception of when I took my Economics in Context course as part of the Green Learning Community experience last semester, I never stopped to think about science prior to Sir Isaac Newton, or to question the terms in which we view science as twenty-first century American university students. However, after starting this course, I began to question what science itself means. Much like I’ve begun to discover in my Environmental Science courses, I’ve come to realize…
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Secret Stash 5- Moonflower Mornings (Wisteria Weepings)
I sit in my chair, eyes drifting close, Curtains drawing on the infinite stage. I awake in our room, a vacant shell Of the world before it all went to hell. The sheets still smell like your orchid shampoo, Your softer-than-moon sweater draped over The chair, lifting up a strand of your hair To the tides and the sky like an abandoned prayer. A knock on the door, but it is not you, So I ignore it and return to painting a portrait Of the one and only person who ever cared, Only to leave me behind with words unshared. You call my name, and I stand, my tired eyes …
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HIS 276 Midterm Reflection
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No Lament For Ducklings
The ducks don’t come around here anymore. The sun wounds the earth, the water hot. You needed to make a swing by the shore, For your kids to never sit in— let the wood rot. Let the earth bake some more for your pleasure. At noon, on the couch, you snore, Dreaming about a dragon fighting a robot. You can’t see that in my head, there’s a war, One you started where only I get shot. Like the ducks, your damage has no measure.
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Understanding The Game
Zoë sits next to me in the bleachers, The mask of shyness falling away As the game takes root in the blue turf. I am blind to understanding what causes her to cheer, But I see the flames of excitement In her grin as we take silly pictures, And breathe in the cold, crisp air. I sit now in a dorm down the hall From where she now resides, Surrounded by five, now understanding Something beyond rugby.
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I am a stained glass window
I have a heart that should be of steel, But it is glass, smooth and easily broken. It is the reason I forbid myself from love, The reason why I avoid talking about you. My mother is a glassblower, Hand-crafting something full of light. My father plays baseball, And he cracks my windows. You say you don’t play baseball, But you throw stones instead And then lie about it afterwards. I don’t throw baseballs or stones, but I’m too scared to make something, so I offer shards of myself to join the dustbin Of other shattered things, hoping they’ll use me and a soldering iron to piece themselves together again.…
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The Ramblings of a Girl Who Isn’t Caitlin
Every word you text me twists my gut like a knife, everything you do simply another stab with that bejeweled dagger, all wrapped in the gold you’ve collected, the gold you say I have to earn, like you have no duty to me. Every single time you say her name, a hand with knives for nails pulls my heart from my chest and squeezes, my blood splattering on my shoes, soaking into my socks. Cold, Arrogant, Insensitive, Tactless, Late, Infuriating, Narcissistic to a degree, That is what you are, just as intended to be. A grown man of forty-seven, a petulant child who shouldn’t be trusted with sharp objects, as…
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Blue Spring Sky
(Our) Blue Spring Sky (Died 10 Years Ago) X-mas came again this year, the December chill bitter, lonelier (without you). The night sky has lost its moon, now an infinite void (without you here). I wore my heart on my sleeve, (put it in your cold hands,) but I’ve lost it (to you, you alone). Winter (claimed you today, but) has forgotten me, like the sky forgot its blue spring (—the one that should’ve lasted forever but never could). I miss that blue spring sky. (I miss you, the one that holds my heart underground.) Writing Reflection After a long while of coming up with potential ideas for my drafty-draft…
