same synchronized motions as them. Our bid to win the prizes for spirit was exciting, and around the FargoDome, I caught sight of various states cheering their hearts out, just as Georgia was. Massachusetts, adorned in their cute sailor hats. Virginia, waving their arms to the signature “V, A! V, A!” chant. Florida, shouting directly behind us. All of this seemed to be in the nature of competition, but these moments before GAs gave us a chance to connect with each other. national convention gave me a chance to step out of the small “Walton High School” bubble that I had concealed myself in. At the national level, I found brothership crossing district lines and state borders.
The pattern of brotherhood is undoubtedly present at different scales within the JCL. When JCLers zoom in and out on a map, it isn’t uncommon for them to point out different counties where their friends live, then tap a state across the map to boast of their friend in Texas, all in the same ten seconds. The individual bonds I have forged across the nation have been pretty scarce, but are unforgettable nevertheless. Although many of our state conventions have been cancelled, I encourage you all to reach out to those who have shown brotherhood with you. Reminisce on past memories, and strive to create new ones the next time you meet. Revive your old friendships across the nation, and even make new ones. The JCL will continue to thrive, and its torch is kept alight by the flames of brotherhood.
Reminisce on past memories, and strive to create new ones the next time you meet.
APOLLO
Abby McKee
Medina High School,
Ohio
Words choke from his throat
certainly, he’s more than his lyre
but how:
can he sing?
when the cliffs of woe
threaten to crush him with
emotion, waves of grief;
swallowing him beneath the choruses
of a crestfallen soul.
surely he can move on— but the laurel,
he rasps painfully as it sways in the winds—
dirt burrows under his nails,
knuckles bloody,
from the roots of their almost love
arthritic and calculated movements
as he rests a tear-warmed
cheek against sharp bark.
‘daphne,’ his airing words yearn,
‘where have you gone’
and as he calls into the heavens above
he realizes, that she’ll never answer
and from Olympus:
a god cackles.