The Storm 4.
It started out as a small breeze.
Unnoticeable.
But soon the wind picked up.
A gentle gust turned into a storm.
And then it hit.
Unemployment.
Anxiety.
Boredom.
Sunny days turned grey.
Streets became bare.
Loneliness became the norm.
We were stuck.
We are stuck.
In an endless cycle of waking up.
Eating.
Staying inside.
And going back to sleep.
Everything,
Our friends.
Our family.
Our sports.
Had been taken from us.
Days turned into weeks.
Those weeks into months.
And we had dug ourselves into a pit deeper than had ever been imagined.
Walking in the streets became a test.
Of whether or not you practiced proper social distancing.
A cough in the grocery store,
The cause of countless glares from people,
Who would’ve once greeted you with a cheerful smile.
The hurricane had hit.
And it felt like it would never go away.
A torrential downpour.
Of pain, sadness, and worry.
With no chance of sunlight breaking the clouds.
Now one can only hope,
That soon the storm will weather.
Soon the light will break through.
And we can resume our lives.
Not to the way of life we once had.
But to a new normal.
Ahmet K., Age 11, Milas/MUĞLA
DAYANDI KAPIYA
Dayandı kapıya Corona
Hayatta açmam kapıyı ona
Sakın ola Tedbiri elden bırakma
Şakası Yok işte geldi Corona
Dedeler ve Nineler ilgi göstersin toruna
Kayıtsız kalamazsınız soruna
Dışarı çıkmayın işler girene kadar yoluna
Şakası Yok işte geldi Corona
Bahar Geldi sakın kanmayın duruma
Aşığım çiçeklerin sarısına moruna
Sadece ekmek almaya gidin fırına
Şakası Yok işte geldik Corana
AHMET K.
Taylan Y. , Age 11, Milas/MUĞLA
EVDE KAL.
Bir ricamız vardır sizden,
Çıkmayın evinizden,
Sözümüzü dinlerseniz,
Hadi çay, kahve de bizden.
Hizmet ayağa gelsin, evde kal.
Maaşın evde ödensin, evde kal.
Virüsten kimse ölmesin, evde kal.
Evde kal, evde kal, evde kal.
Yıkayın ellerinizi,
Yapın dezenfektenizi,
Hastalanıpta üzmeyin,
Sakın sevdiklerimizi.
Şu korona yayılmasın, evde kal.
Sağlığınız bozulmasın, evde kal.
Can kayıpları olmasın, evde kal.
Evde kal, evde kal, evde kal.
TAYLAN YAVUZ
Vol.3
5am, the Beach
As long as I was on the path I walked hard, but when I came to the black beach I had to run. For the tide was now nearly flowed; and to get through with my powder dry between the surf and the steep hill, took all the quickness I possessed. As it was, even, the wash caught me to the knees, and I came near falling on a stone. All this time the hurry I was in, and the free air and smell of the sea, kept my spirits lively; but when I was once in the bush and began to climb the path I took it easier.
The fearsomeness of the wood had been a good bit rubbed off for me by Master Case’s banjo-strings and graven images, yet I thought it was a dreary walk, and guessed, when the disciples went up there, they must be badly scared. The light of the lantern, striking among all these trunks and forked branches and twisted rope-ends of lianas, made the whole place, or all that you could see of it, a kind of a puzzle of turning shadows. They came to meet you, solid and quick like giants, and then span off and vanished; they hove up over your head like clubs, and flew away into the night like birds. The floor of the bush glimmered with dead wood, the way the match-box used to shine after you had struck a lucifer. Big, cold drops fell on me from the branches overhead like sweat. There was no wind to mention; only a little icy breath of a land-breeze that stirred nothing; and the harps were silent.