Student Poetry Reflects Wisdom, Deep Feelings, Nurturing Teachers

LA JOLLA, California — Seventeen middle school and high school students from the San Diego Jewish Academy, the Portland Jewish Academy, and Temple Solel were featured during the Jewish Poets-Jewish Voices Student Showcase on Sunday afternoon, March 27. Their works reflected their wisdom, their deep feelings, and the dedicated teachers who nurture their voices.

Jewish Poets-Jewish Voices Committee member and co-chair for this Student Showcase, Sara Appel-Lennon, moderated the event.

Sara Hansen, Humanities and English chair of the San Diego Jewish Academy and Middle School Humanities teacher, Harriet Wingard (my daughter) of the Portland Jewish Academy, recruited these outstanding students.

Participating from San Diego County were the following San Diego Jewish Academy students: 8th graders Hannah Gutman and Alexander Lerner, 9th grader Kayla Scott, and 11th graders, Yael Gurwitz and David Feldman. Ellen Fox, Temple Solel’s Religious School principal, recruited and read the poetry of Gianna Brooks.

The Portland Jewish Academy participants were: 6th grader Yoav Shuall, 7th graders Sydney Rosenberg, Yon Zalkow-Blue and Gavriel Kedem, 8th graders Maya Zaslavasky, Marlo Dabareiner, Lily Manne, Ariel Carroll, Madi Gilbert, Anna Kappler, and Sunny Press.

Following the featured student poets, adults and students read during the open mic segment, showcasing some excellent local and Portland-based talent.

For those who missed the inspiring poetry of the students, here are six examples, three from San Diego participants, and three from the Portland poets.

by Hannah Gutman, 8th grade, SDJA

There’s always a tenderness about life.
When you open your polka-dotted lunchbox and find a note from mommy.
When you unfold your eyes to the rising, vibrant sun of both red and orange.
When you fall to rest by mommy’s fragile fingers tracing the very features of the face she created.
That is until you discover its true intention.
Perhaps, a concept.
Attempting to eat away at the remaining pieces of my shattered soul.
The heart of mine that belongs to too many and too little.
The brain of mine that has endured thoughts and perspectives I never knew were feasible.
And simply, the beauty I have uncovered.
The beauty that I have discovered amidst my shrilling trembles of agony.
The tears that have gifted me with cognizance.
The yelps that have handed me a distinguished voice.
The pain that has brought me endurance.
The grief that has given me comfort.
It is these things.
These things that make the tenderness of life.

by Alexander Lerner, 8th grade, SDJA

And then I’m left there
Alone
And I’m screaming and I’m shouting for someone to hear me
To know that the kept darkness of this house is not all that I’ll ever know
That they did not
Leave me here
To drown in my own tears
I am coming undone
Breaking over and over
The cracks in my skin pouring over the floor
Shattering my soul
Because it can’t
Can’t be it
They did. not.
Leave me here
To stare at this wall
And count the flakes in the paint
The tears in the wall paper
The tick tick tick of the clock that remains
1 minute behind

Until my tears have dried
And I am so lost
Sinking in the same spot
Do I realize
That this is all I am
And all I’ll ever be
Nothing but a forgotten
Shell
Of the person I once was
And now that I’ve hit the bottom
And I’m lying all broken on the ground
There is nothing left for me to do
Nothing other than to
Pull
Myself
Back
Up

When I was young at the piano, I sat on a shiny black bench.
I would drape my slippery fingers over the bulky and shapeless instrument trying to make a scale across the black and white keys.
My feet floated above the ground because I was too short to plant my soles on the wooden floor beneath me.
When I was young at the piano, I would inspect the metallic wires and steel strings behind the keys.
I would sit in awe as I stared at the tiny, white, fluffy hammers that sprung up and down like a bouncy ball each time I gently pressed a key.
When I was young at the piano, I would hum with the music.
I would whisper with the tunes I played, soft enough so no one else could hear yet loud enough for the universe to understand.
The melodies were my stories, and the harmony was my spirit.
As I grew older at the piano I would reach my toes to meet the ground.
I would bang at the keys and still touch them as light as a feather.
A smile took over my face as I fell into euphoria.
As I grew older at the piano, I would arpeggiate triads across the instrument.
Three separate notes would create one whole sound.
The mystery and unease augmented chords evoked were soothed by my major chords, like a rainbow in a thunderstorm, it brought light and color to any song.
As I grew older at the piano, my thirst for knowledge of the musical language increased.
Each time a Ⅴ7 chord resolved to Ⅰ it felt like the greatest ah-ha moment.
Like the world was complete and full of peace.
When I was young at the piano, I would share secrets with the world. My heart’s beat would sync up with the rhythm of the song. The music created a spark of electricity that lit every lightbulb in the room. As I plunked out tunes on the piano, I would make music that connected my soul with the sand and soil of the earth.
I still do.

by Sydney Rosenberg, 7th grade, PJA

In that glide to somewhere else
Lost
Lost
Unknowing when the end will come
Knowing the stare of inevitability looms

This way?
No
That way?
No
There’s no right answer, but there is

Pressure
Pressure
Do well
Make money
Support your family
Just be happy
But you can’t

Oh, no!
No can’t, only can
But you can’t
Can’t do well
Can’t make money
Can’t support your family
Can’t just be happy
Can’t just be happy because they’re gone

Oopsies
They’re gone
What now?

The inevitability grows closer
The pressure only grows
Pressure
Pressure
What now?

Finally!
A relief
A light
Relief
Relief

The light again
Please
Please
Reaching
Reaching
Finally

Finally
Finally gone
Gone worry
Gone hate
Gone pressure
Gone inevitability because it’s here
You’re knocking on its door
The door swings open

Welcome
Welcome
Numbness engulfs like fire
But not as hot

Life fades, a distant memory
Shattering

Family

What were their names?
It doesn’t matter
You’re here now
Welcome
Welcome

Numbness still rages
Smothering everything
You’re here now
Welcome
Welcome
Finally

by Gavriel Kedem, 7th grade, PJA

An orchestra of suffering,
clashing of instruments countering the clashing of arms,
chords and bombs,
notes and sirens.
A mass of voices, the mass target, the perfect target.
Will the enemy sympathize with the torn, wounded, and scarred masses
of living yet lifeless,
breathing yet breathless,
calling yet unheard souls?

A raging war between brethren.
Torn and stitched; ripped and sewn,
now burned and left as ashes.

A piercing note of silence,
halting, slowing, crouching, and waiting,
a tiger stalking its prey.
Is it long enough to catch a breath?
I suppose not.
The carnivore pounces.

by Yon Zalkow-Blue, 7th grade, PJA

Cover up your warts
Cover up your zits
Cover up your wounds
Because the world would rather see a bandaged body than whatever you have
Cover up your gay
Cover up your sad
Cover up your love
Because the world would rather see a blank slate than whatever you have
Cover up your style
Cover up your makeup
Cover up your expression
Because the world would rather see a no one than whatever you are
Bandages better than that
Blank slate better than you
Everyone better than you
So you’d better be bandaged
You’d better be a blank slate
You’d better be a nobody
Because it’s
All
Better
Than whatever
You