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Published byDarleen Hunter Modified over 9 years ago
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By Victoria Wang STRON G
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Here There Be Dragons Overcoming obstacles Confidence, courage It’s different for everyone
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Year 1 Journalism Year 2 Family and friendship
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This is the time of year when almost every night the frail, illegal fire balloons appear. Climbing the mountain height, rising toward a saint still honored in these parts, the paper chambers flush and fill with light that comes and goes, like hearts. The balloons symbolize people. The fire represents the bonds between friends and family.
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Once up against the sky it's hard to tell them from the stars— planets, that is—the tinted ones: Venus going down, or Mars, or the pale green one. With a wind, they flare and falter, wobble and toss; but if it's still they steer between the kite sticks of the Southern Cross, Once kindled, friendship glows bright as stars.
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receding, dwindling, solemnly and steadily forsaking us, or, in the downdraft from a peak, suddenly turning dangerous. Last night another big one fell. It splattered like an egg of fire against the cliff behind the house. The flame ran down. We saw the pair There’s a destructive side to strength, too.
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of owls who nest there flying up and up, their whirling black-and-white stained bright pink underneath, until they shrieked up out of sight. The ancient owls' nest must have burned. Hastily, all alone, a glistening armadillo left the scene, rose-flecked, head down, tail down, Even the tough- skinned armadillo is crushed when made a hobo.
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and then a baby rabbit jumped out, short-eared, to our surprise. So soft!—a handful of intangible ash with fixed, ignited eyes. Too pretty, dreamlike mimicry! O falling fire and piercing cry and panic, and a weak mailed fist clenched ignorant against the sky!
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When the sun heralds its arrival— Rosy mist gushing like crowns into tomorrow’s valleys, Rays of sunshine cascading across the night’s once fine drapery— When it’s dawn, When in foreign territory, faced with something new…
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A person is diminished to the small paper image of a person Propped up—a broken puppet—before majesty and strength. I know how, sometimes, alone on a road with no beginning and no end, …it’s hard to be strong when alone. I look up and realize that; That is all I am, paper stars.
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And I watch the jewels on night’s stained cloth One by one close their brilliant eyes, one by one slip into sleep. It’s times like these, at the precipice of morning, That I dream of letting my eyes fall shut So that like the stars of the sky, I can pass, too, into the night (…sweet lullabies…) And end my endless journey here. I feel like giving up.
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And another comes. Two paper figures back to back, propped up against each other And it doesn’t even matter that the others have gone. Starlight shines. We can face a new day. When I’m with company, I can keep going.
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