The HARK Journal recognizes student talent from elementary-to-university level.
Enjoy the student contributions below.
He came from where his wings would grow,
From the soft, thin spot on his back,
Between the shoulders, behind the heart,
Clinging to the husk that was once
His only self.
Years and years
Of waiting for new wings to unravel and dry.
Once he is ready, he will take flight
To a place no one knows
Or has a name for.
Many come with him,
All of them from dried shells with opened backs.
They present themselves for a moment,
Singing proudly, through damp air,
With the birds and early crickets.
No one will ask what their purpose was
Or why they leave so soon,
Knowing well that next year,
When the rains have come and gone
And the soil makes way,
They emerge, in numbers,
To sing summer’s return.
From the Author: One of the purest things about the ArkLaTex is its nature. Anyone who has spent a summer in this region has heard the cicada's song- it's rhythmic lulling. When I do, I think about emergence, growth. They come and go almost in a flash, and all we have to prove they were here are the memories of their songs and husks of their old selves.