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Young Writers Project: 'Sparks'

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Lydia Moreman
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Lydia Moreman is a junior at Champlain Valley Union High School in Hinesburg. She wrote the poem "Sparks" in response to a Young Writers Project prompt about a statue that begins a conversation with you as you pass by.

Lydia Moreman is a junior at Champlain Valley Union High School in Hinesburg. She wrote the poem “Sparks” in response to a Young Writers Project prompt about a statue that begins a conversation with you as you pass by. Lydia says, “I wrote this poem because I often think about how amazing this world is, but how we take it for granted because we've become numb to the wonder of it.”

Sparks
By Lydia Moreman
Grade 11, Champlain Valley Union High School

I came across a marble statue,
heavy head grasped in frozen hands.
I placed a daisy between his fingers,
laid a kiss on his forehead, and said,
“Poor, Mr. Statue, why are you sad?”
He raised his head to meet my gaze with forlorn eyes.
“Oh, my child,” he said to me, “I do not wish
to burden your innocent mind. Go and enjoy your
childhood – we’ll meet again another time.”
“But, Mr. Statue, I do not like to see you sad.
Won’t you tell me what bothers you so?”
“My good-hearted child, I wish your ears could remain deaf
and your eye be blind to the truth of reality.
God made a perfect world;
God made the birds and the trees,
all thousand variations.
One would have been a miracle,
one would have been enough.
I’ve seen the nature of man
destroy the nature around,
taking for granted what was
lovingly created for them.
Is a sunset not breathtaking?
Has the changing of seasons grown dull?
Trees fallen,
human life thrown away.
The sky has darkened;
the sun used to shine so bright.
Now it hides behind the clouds,
ashamed of what it sees.
Every now and again,
I feel a spark,
but it is only so big,
and it gets lost among the crowd
of humans too busy to admire the miracle
of their working brain.
And that, my dear, is why I’m sad.
I used to watch the passersby,
but it was too much to bear,
and I put my head in my hands to
block it out.
Now I only hear snippets of life,
and that, too, is maddening.”
A single tear fell down his cheek,
as he closed his eyes to pray.
He laid his head into his hands
and froze once again,
a daisy clasped in his fingers.

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