As I sit here and reflect on all the good times shared at GSE...all I can do is smile. I'm so glad I had the opportunity to experience this wonderful 6-week program. My only wish is that it could have been longer. I wrote a state of the moment/snapshot about GSE in class, that I would like to share. Here it is:
The trees blowing in the wind and the clouds bouncing in the air. Quietness on the campus. Blanket on the ground, staring up in the sky. This is what I will miss. "They paved my driveway with abstraction and poetry is the metaphor." A man built with the bravest fire, stands in front of us, our friend, our teacher. All of us have grown so close this six weeks- that we share "inside" jokes and lines of poetry. I will miss this. Head back, belting out "Don't Stop Believin'", in first String Parlor. It's girls night and we're standing on top of the furniture, hysterically laughing in our pajamas. Hearing people say over and over again about how much they love it here. This is what I will miss. Long naps on the quad, after hours, smelling the fresh night air, listening to the chirping birds and hushed whispers. I will miss this. The stolen moments, the learning moments, the fun times, the good times...all of these will live within my heart forever. It is not just a summer program...it is a rite of passage to be who you really are. You are surrounded by 304 other "you's" and it makes the experience even more spectacular. It changed me for the better and allowed me to be more open-minded. It also helped me better understand who I am and how others perceive me. In other words, GSE, will forever be that unforgettable place that produces glitter in my eyes whenever I remember it.
I would also like to share my last poem on different ways to look at poetry. I only included my favorite stanzas:
Truth is the lost diary with the worn pages
haunting of past memories.
Locked in the attic, stored behind the aged,
rag doll with bright red strings for hair.
Nestled deep amongst the pixie-dust and post lover's secrets.
Beauty is the calloused but strong feet that
leap across the wooden floor, effortlessly.
Muscles tightened and held with brevity.
Leaving her heart on the stage.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Pushing onward.
Swaying hair, glowing spotlight, the dancer's maze.
Confusion is the glassy, weary eyes
of a child who remembers the puppy
she played with when she was seven.
His mass of wirey hair flopping about in glee.
Where is he?
Doubt is the misunderstood and anxious bride
as she puts on that pure, white dress
knowing the unknown of life.
A tear bubbles at the lids and inches down
her rosy cheeks as her shaky hands
pull down the veil masking her tainted hair.
Wisdom is the hopeful letter
touched and imprinted
by every
hand,
soul,
and heart
whispered onto of memories and advice
for the future
the tears that flowed onto it as it
was tucked under the faulty brick,
hidden, until that fateful day.
Love is the art of
hand-holding,
as my small hand
fits tightly
in the crevices between
your larger one.
Fingers interlocking with splendor,
binding the gap
uniting as one.
Special thanks to Superintendent Logan, Chatham County School Board, Counselor Mrs. Logan, Mr. Blice, Mrs. Jones, my English teachers: Mr. Morris and Mrs. Mercer, Mrs. Beth McCullough (mentor) and my parents.
Farewell,
Chelsea Gardner
