Chloe Sioeng, class of 2028
Seeds sprout,
a life now grown,
full flowers bloom.
The spirit of death passes,
and petals turn to brittle glass.
We press them flat
to hold captive the “forever,”
shielding the color and the sheen.
Between thin pages,
is it a heartbeat we’ve saved,
or rather an empty shell?
We place a light on trial between two pages—
radiating, then pressed into a pulse.
One day, then two, then comes the hour
when the light is but a flicker of itself.
The glow turned cold and grey,
perhaps engulfed by its own shadow.
To hold onto a once fleeting color,
we do the same with ourselves—
pinning down memories
before the flicker passes.
Some with paper and pen,
others with only the mind.
But do not let the ghosts of what was
rattle the glass of what is.
Though the past may haunt the hallways of memory,
it cannot extinguish a rising heat.
Do not let an old shadow
shake the flicker of a wick and wax unburned.
There is a dormant heat
in the dried leaf,
the potential of a life
kept vivid by the seeking.
For all who search for their own power:
To find the self
is to catch the spark;
to reach, to rise,
to turn a brief flicker
into a steady flame.
My inspiration for this piece stemmed from moments of self-doubt, a hobby my sister (whom I look up to) has always enjoyed—pressing flowers—and my own personal reflections. This poem connects to the theme “Flicker” as it describes the periods of uncertainty people experience within their own lives. I am particularly drawn to the imagery of the “hallways of memory,” the metaphor of the “wick and wax,” and the idea of “dormant heat in the dried leaf.” I feel these specific phrases are powerful aspects of the art of pressing flowers and important to how we find our own potential. Enjoy;)