Daniel Bermejo, age 14

Aayreen Baagwala


Staring outside the window,
Drunk on moonlit skies,
I close my eyes,
And see us sitting side by side,
Watching the sunrise,
A hint of evanescence, 
A moment of epiphany, 
When did we shatter into pieces?
Do you not remember why we fell apart?
Like shards of broken glass, 
I still don’t get why we’re all that remains of the melodies we formed,

Because each time our favorite song plays,
And you’re not around,
Each time I’m watching our movie,
And you’re not with me, 
I swear the silence, 
It eats me alive, 
Until all that’ left are these beautiful scars,
I refuse to let them heal, 
What if I forget you after they’re gone?
What if I lose you?
And what if I'm already lost too?
You mess me up,
And sadly, I let you do it every single time,

I often sing about you,
To the flowers in my backyard, 
But sometimes when I return back to them,
In a black dress at evening,
Tear-strained and tormented,
The roses too beg me to leave you,
So just to shut these noises up,
I end up breaking them into two,

Because how was I to stay away from those golden-brown eyes?
The ones that filled my days with a little more sunlight,
So how strange of me to now feel colder at night,
my friends don’t understand that they belong to the same face,
I endlessly wait for the warmth to return,
While I continue to die under that piercing, icy gaze,
Again feeling just half-alive, 

Don’t you think we should have learned by now?
We’re playing monopoly in a burning room,
And neither of us is winning,
I try to escape it,
To run out of this maze, 
Which seemed so enchanting at first, 
Until you set it on fire, 
Left me by myself, wondering if I’ll reach the end in time, 
Before the smoke suffocates me,
Wondering why you’re still clinging onto me like ink stains on a perfectly written poem,
A lingering nightmare,
Toxic, psychotic, chaotic, 
You know it too well, 
Using it against me, 
Never realizing that you’re a part of it, 
Of this madness,
Of this nothingness,
Of this mess,

So I asked her to let go, 
When I met her through the rear-view mirror that night,
I turn to the clear reflection in the pool,
And start to whisper, 
‘’It’s time for a goodbye’’
In the pier glass, 
I see a single red tear trickle down my cheek,
I wipe it away and every trace of you lying within, 
My echo tells me we deserve a happy ending too,
I don’t know if I fully believe for it to be true, 
But I close the pen cap and hold myself back from writing pages,
To a chapter that can’t be rewritten,
A chapter that is through,
You. 

Poetry

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Aayreen shares what it's like to experience a broken heart.

Drunk on Moonlit Skies

Tommy Zhou

To be frank, there is no conclusive evidence one way or another. 


Browsing newspapers, people can easily obtain information from every corner of the world. 

Apart from the pandemic that has been prevalent in recent years, the war between Russia and Ukraine, global food shortage, and high inflation have been major issues haunting peoples’ minds. All of these make people wonder, “Is our world becoming less stable and more violent?” To be frank, there is no conclusive evidence one way or another. Given the development of technologies, online abuses occur more frequently, and the news spreads much faster than it did before, so people may regard the world as more violent. However, there are limitations to this argument which may not lead to the same conclusion, such as the calculation of relative figures and lack of records in the past. Ultimately, it is extremely hard to explicitly determine whether the world is becoming more violent or not.

When considering the evidence for supporting the argument, the role of technology seems inevitable and significant. Technology has skyrocketed in the last century, and so the forms of violence are changing from physical conflict to online abuse. Nowadays, due to the widespread use of the internet, people can easily express their views and oppose the views of others. This allows people to attack others online at their will (and sometimes anonymously) without considering the consequences. This creates a novel form of violence – cyber bullying. According to the data presented by the Cyberbullying Research Center, the percentage of cyberbullying victimization rates have increased from 18.8% in 2007 to 45.5% in 2021, with an average rate of 29.3%. Google Search trends also show that the volume of worldwide searches for “cyberbullying” increased threefold since 2004. This demonstrates that as our technology becomes more diverse and mature, it is inevitable that the method of violence is constantly shifting. While physical abuses remain, the addition of online violence makes people feel the world is becoming more violent.

Additionally, the consequences of online violence are undeniable. It can cause tremendous damage to teenagers’ mental health, resulting in depression and low self-esteem. According to a research conducted by Pew Research Center, the total number of teenagers who recently experienced depression increased 59% from 2007 to 2017. The damages caused by cyberbullying are potentially more long-lasting than those caused by physical violence. Cyberbullying may not affect teenagers immediately, but it can gradually undermine their confidence and cause depression. For many teenagers, it seems like the world is becoming more violent because they can feel the damage profoundly. Therefore, the growth rate of online violence and depression may explain the growth rate of teenagers’ suicides in the last decades, which increased nearly 60% between 2007 and 2018 in people aged 10 to 24, according to a report released by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Adolescents who experienced cyberbullying victimization were 2.07 times more likely to have depressive symptoms compared to those who did not experience cyberbullying victimization. This data is significant because it helps explain both the explicit and implicit impacts online violence has on teenagers, which makes the world seem more violent.

Apart from online bullying, technology also amplifies the range and depth of the press, which makes the world seem more violent. In the past, civilians could gather information from local news but often did not have the opportunity to uncover news outside their region. Because the sources of information were limited, many incidents of violence were not revealed to those readers. Thus, if their surroundings were secure, many people regarded the world as a safe place. Today, due to the progress of technology, any news organization can report current events from any country in the world, including violent incidents such as terrorist attacks. This reduces the distance between people and those events and makes them think that the world is becoming more and more violent.

Since the reason for violence nowadays is more manifold, it seems as though violence happens more frequently. In the past, violent events like wars were essentially fought for land, labor force, food, and religious reasons. According to the National Geographic Society, ancient civilizations launched wars in an effort to acquire glory, power, land resources, and territory. Nowadays, wars still exist, but they are no longer limited to physical combat. Instead, they have transformed into different types of conflict, such as trade wars and technology wars, like the trade war between China and America for example. Furthermore, contemporary countries often start wars over different resources, such as raw materials and space substances.

However, there are some limitations to this argument that need to be considered, such as the lack of data caused by the absence of technology in the past, and the use of relative figures and absolute figures.

Due to the lack of technology to record every crime in the past, the number of violent crimes may be underestimated. According to an article published by ABC news, wars around the world have killed three times more people over the past half-century than previously estimated. This may lead us to the conclusion that the world in the past was not as peaceful as we thought, and perhaps was more violent than it is today. For instance, in Bangladesh’s struggle for independence, previous studies estimated that around 58,000 people died, while a new study presented a number closer to 269,000. This is only one example of casualties being underestimated. Especially in distant history, such as in ancient Babylon or Greece, accurate violence or casualties are even more difficult to assess. In addition, the government may suppress the number of casualties or incidents of crimes in the past. Therefore, the violence in the past is often underestimated, which makes it hard for historians to decide whether the past was more violent than today or not.

Another factor that makes it hard for historians to assess the degree of violence is the presence of absolute figures and relative figures. Since the global population is constantly growing, the death of 100 people today represents a different percentage of the total population, although the absolute figure is the same. For example, in 1600, the population worldwide was 554 million people. If 100 million were killed in a war, then it would be 1/5 of the total census. However, if the same amount of people were killed currently, it would be less than 1/70 of the total population. When considering relative figures, it seems that the world is less violent today because the percentage of deaths compared to the total population is lower. But in fact, the number of casualties is the same, which makes it difficult to assess which one is more violent.

In conclusion, considering all the aspects to assess the degree of violence, it is nearly impossible to determine the answer for the vast and complex question “Is our world becoming more violent or not?”  Since there is relatively persuasive and insightful evidence and ideas for both sides, it is necessary for the readers to decide the bias of the scale in their own minds.


Why human society isn't more-or less-violent than in the past (no date) Science. Available at: https://www.science.org/content/article/why-human-society-isn-t-more-or-less-violent-past(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

Bellamy, P.A. (2021) Are we really becoming more peaceful – or does violence come in cycles?, Are we getting less violent and can we achieve world peace? | BBC Science Focus Magazine. BBC Science Focus Magazine. Available at: https://www.sciencefocus.com/science/less-violent-world-peace/(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

O'Neill, A. (2022) Global population 10,000BCE-2100, Statista. Available at: https://www.statista.com/statistics/1006502/global-population-ten-thousand-bc-to-2050/(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

Violence quotes (2007 quotes) (no date) Goodreads. Goodreads. Available at: https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/violence(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

Fisher, M. (2022) Is the world really falling apart, or does it just feel that way?, The New York Times. The New York Times. Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/12/world/interpreter-world-falling-apart.html?_ga=2.187177256.1078875873.1671192852-1720892274.1671192852(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

Cyberbullying statistics 2022 (with charts): 36 "key" facts (2022) FirstSiteGuide. Available at: https://firstsiteguide.com/cyberbullying-stats/(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

Atske, S. (2022) A majority of teens have experienced some form of cyberbullying, Pew Research Center: Internet, Science &amp; Tech. Pew Research Center. Available at: https://www.pewresearch.org/internet/2018/09/27/a-majority-of-teens-have-experienced-some-form-of-cyberbullying/(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

Cyberbullying statistics and facts for 2022 (2022) Comparitech. Available at: https://www.comparitech.com/internet-providers/cyberbullying-statistics/(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

Patchin, J.W. (no date) Summary of our cyberbullying research (2004-2022), Cyberbullying Research Center. Available at: https://cyberbullying.org/summary-of-our-cyberbullying-research(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

Geiger, A.W. and Davis, L. (2020) A growing number of American teenagers – particularly girls – are facing depression, Pew Research Center. Pew Research Center. Available at: https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2019/07/12/a-growing-number-of-american-teenagers-particularly-girls-are-facing-depression/(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

Dastagir, A.E. (2020) More young people are dying by suicide, and experts aren't sure why, USA Today. Gannett Satellite Information Network. Available at: https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/health/2020/09/11/youth-suicide-rate-increases-cdc-report-finds/3463549001/(Accessed: December 17, 2022). 

Teen suicide (2021) Child Trends. Available at: https://www.childtrends.org/indicators/suicidal-teens(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

Maurya, C. et al. (2022) The effects of cyberbullying victimization on depression and suicidal ideation among adolescents and young adults: A three year cohort study from India - BMC Psychiatry, BioMed Central. BioMed Central. Available at: https://bmcpsychiatry.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s12888-022-04238-x(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

War (no date) National Geographic Society. Available at: https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/war(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

ABC News. ABC News Network. Available at: https://abcnews.go.com/Health/Healthday/story?id=5207645&amp;page=1(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

Ancient civilization: Conquest (no date) National Geographic Society. Available at: https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/ancient-civilization-conquest(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

Apartheid (2022) Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation. Available at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apartheid(Accessed: December 17, 2022).

In a KidSpirit Features article, teen writer Tommy Zhou investigates whether the world is becoming more or less violent.

Is the World Becoming More Violent?

Marium Ihsan

December 2020 was dark, gloomy, and especially cold — the fog settled in early in the evening and never disappeared, becoming a constant. 

On one of these cold, dark nights my mother had an episode of what a lot of doctors term kaali khaansi, a black cough, or whooping cough. It was just as dense and cold, but most of all just as frightening, as the wind outside.

Winters that I associated with the warmth of my palms encircling mugs of hot coffee or with the comfort of the firewood cracking in the late hours of the night while I watched Gilmore Girls now became estranged and filled me with an alien feeling of loneliness and a constant sense of anticipation that something bad was quietly tip-toeing up behind me. What was special about this kaali khaansi was not just that it was a vicious cough of sorts but that every day after 9:00 pm it made an appearance, and every day after 9:00 pm for the next three weeks I would hold my breath and wait patiently to sit by my mother, feeling helpless, distraught, overthinking every wheeze, every pause she took, and convincing myself to prepare for the worst. For the next three weeks, every day I would raise the same worrying concerns, ask the same questions, think the same dreadful thoughts, and feel the same fearful feelings, unable to take myself out of this perpetual angst. 

A lot of my worries were unjustified and incredibly exaggerated, but the experience in itself was significant enough to consume me entirely for three weeks and leave an imprint large enough for me to remember even today. No matter how the scale of the experience varies on the superficial “trauma scale” that authorizes the world to dictate whether or not there is validity in the emotions you feel, it is still enough for an adolescent or a child to navigate their inner and outer environments around the painful experiences they hold onto. 

Most people are faced with traumatic situations, whether those be engravings of childhood experiences, tragedies they have had to face throughout their life, or a single event tumultuous enough to alter their way of approaching situations. Each of these experiences can manifest as anxiety, depression, substance abuse, or other mentally overwhelming strains. These are generally consequent to the development of varying coping mechanisms, from those who never miss an opportunity to crack a dark joke, to those who become shyer and more introverted, to those who use mediums of expression like art, music, or writing. 

The foundations of most progressive movements themselves stem from the historical constraints and persecutions that diverse communities have had to face. This presents an interesting thought: could the experience of trauma ignite a restorative resilience within individuals? An example affirming this view is the women’s rights movement. Denied, silenced, and ignored, women across the world have had to fight battles far too many times for far too many reasons. 

On a school bus in 2012, on her way to what was an ordinary day of school in Swat, Malala Yousafzai became one of the countless survivors of a movement to terminate women’s access to education. What would have been a heartbreaking headline concerning the death of yet another 15-year-old girl instead became an international and united uproar demanding accountability and change. Would Malala have fought so fearlessly in an endless struggle for girls’ education if she had not had to face such awful adversity? While we can’t answer this question directly, what we do understand from the event is that when individuals are confronted with violence, when their sanctity is threatened, when they have to look evil in the eye, there is a burning flame. For Malala this flame promised to ensure that instead of isolating the traumatic experience, she made a conscious effort to fight against the perpetrators of her trauma and the trauma of the thousands of girls denied an absolute right. 

Perhaps, one of the most significant ways of understanding whether or not trauma can lead to inner development is through poets. If humanity was at war against trauma, the leaders of the battalion would be the poets. They would raise their swords to take down the brutality of the opposition, they would never bend in the instant of vulnerability, and they would be the shields of empathy that organize all the thoughts and all the words that their people couldn’t express.

Poetry yields this subconscious power of literary excellence even when plagued with death, grief, sorrow, pity, or ruin. For me, poetry gives an access to wallow in the displeasure of pain — the prettiest of poems display the most intricate of horrifying thoughts. For me, there is an eerie comfort in the resonance I feel when I read poetry that portrays shared experiences in the calmest of tones, enough to cause a smile and heal bits and pieces of impressionable wounds. 

In fact, it’s best understood by Aracelis Girmay’s words, “I am amazed by how much people can survive, endure — and how they can go on living, laughing.” Each of us struggles with instances that may make us feel weak, helpless, and incapable of coping, but more often than not we end up learning and using those experiences as lanterns of guidance that shape our personality and provide us with wisdom. Our inner development is not just measured by how successful we become through our trauma but by how it reminds us of our strength. Fragility does not make us puny and weak but enables us to better comprehend our emotions and consequently how to better tackle the worst of situations. 

December 2020 created an impression that strengthened my perception for the better. It exists as a reminder to me that while I captain my ship, I will encounter winds that imbalance the pivot of my course, I will encounter storms that rain heavy and cold, I will encounter bolts of lightning that are unpredictable and forceful, but a captain’s duty is to persist even when persistence is met with high tides multiplying in size in the darkness of cloudy nights. It rests as a comforting reminder that in the grooves of my being there is a certainty that, even after periods of disdain and sadness, it is only right for me to begin again.

December 2020, I’ll always remember you, 
I’ll remember how the fog settled in, 
How early it got dark, 
I’ll remember the viciousness you brought with you, 
But most of all what you taught me of myself, 
I’ll carry with me every cold breeze from that winter because, without it,
I do not know perseverance, 
I do not learn selflessness for others, 
I do not have strength.

In a KidSpirit Big Question article, teen writer Marium Ihsan contemplates how difficult experiences can make us stronger.

Can Traumatic Experiences Lead to Inner Development?

Fatima Shafi

3 your Lord has not forsaken you, nor is He displeased with you,

4 and the Hereafter will indeed be better for you than the present life;

5 soon you will be gratified with what your Lord will give you.

1-5: Surah Duha (The Glorious Morning Light)

The beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic was when many of us lost or found ourselves. For me, it was a combination of both: I felt numb in my heart, marooned on an island that was my mind, and out of control of the whims of my body. I found myself turning to the Quran and channeling that desolation and lostness through tears dripping onto its pages. I found myself on my knees on the prayer-mat more often, and when I allowed myself to be healed by God’s Words and grounded in the knowledge of His presence, I found myself. I was able to rediscover my sense of clarity, meaning, and purpose in life – and all this was accomplished by the superficially simple but actually cavernous act of yielding: yielding to prewritten fate, and to the fact that this fate is entirely in God’s control.

Donna Tart, author of The Secret History, writes about the freedom that comes with surrender to man’s innate madness: "And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves?"

Islam focuses on a different sort of surrender, a peaceful one. It speaks of the contentment that comes when one’s life and soul are surrendered to God – not just in reality but in concept. And following this surrender comes true healing: not a bandage over a gaping heart-wound, but a thorough replacement of broken nerve and cardiac tissue. A fresh start, and the ability to look back at one’s past in forgiveness.

Forgiveness was what was most important to me when I began my healing journey. I found it impossible to exonerate a self that had been selfish and prejudiced at every turn, and I felt imprisoned and isolated within my own intangible thoughts. It is here that I realized the thematic value of Surah Duha: the idea that God is always with us, closer to us than our jugular veins, even when we have turned our backs on ourselves. The surah serves as a reminder that God is the Lord of the daybreak and of the night – the ones brought about by celestial influence and the ones in our minds. For people who have suffered trauma, this message of divine support and presence can be very healing since it provides them hope and reassurance that they are not at all alone in the prison of their troubles.

Islam takes a holistic approach to helping people recover from trauma. Islamic teachings from the time of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) more than 1400 years ago served as the foundation for much of the study and application of various types of therapies today (pbuh). Islam places a lot of importance on all three of these aspects of health—a sound heart, a strong mind, and a healthy body—so therapies based on Islamic teachings provide coverage for each.

To understand the drastic change my own life had undergone, I researched Islamic worship and how it is a healing unto itself. This three-dimensional healing is a soothing of trauma from all angles. When it comes to one’s mind, Islam encourages not only reflecting on the Quran, but also the world around us: nature, the rise and descent of the sun, the ebb and flow of politics, the development of technology, the wonders and calamities of the earth. Indeed, today, ecotherapy is commonly practiced, not only by patients attending therapy but also by common people on a day-to-day basis. This form of therapy, based on the belief that humanity has an inherent connection with nature, prioritizes this connection using various techniques such as meditating in a forest or woodland, interacting with animals, gardening, or engaging in outdoor activities like hiking.

The importance of mental health in Islam was emphasized by the Prophet (pbuh). His own life was often a series of consecutive struggles, and his approaches to dealing with these struggles—as instructed by God and acknowledged by Him in the Quran—serve as reminders and inspiration for Muslims of all ages, times, and climes, from a sixteen-year-old high-school student to the reader of this essay. He taught a unique and wholesome approach to healing that covered spiritual remedies, special supplications for various feelings, emotional regulation, and caring for our bodies. And in the constant reminder that his Lord had not forsaken him, he found the contentment and strength that he carried on into the future, and that touched my life.

Islam places a high priority on encouraging people to observe and reflect on their own lives and the world around them. I've found it helpful to turn my attention away from the drawbacks in my life and toward the advantages by not only recognizing but also expressing thankfulness. As my sentiments become more positive, so do my intentions and behaviors, which is exactly how cognitive behavioral therapy works. According to contemporary scientific research, practicing gratitude has been linked to bettering not only one's mental health, but also one's physical health, including the immune system, blood pressure, and sleep.

Islam emphasizes the value of community and self-reflection in relation to the heart, which must be healed until it achieves a sound and open state. It also stresses the need of seeking God's guidance and partaking in spiritual rituals. I discovered first-hand that giving back to society and performing charitable deeds is essential to heart healing when I began volunteering at a number of institutions, including an orphanage. Islamically and scientifically, helping others and displaying compassion is a sure-fire approach to make sure that one treats oneself just the same way.

Merely practicing Islam can have a positive impact on mental health through the sense of meaning and purpose that it provides. As mentioned in Surah Duha, one is reassured that the trials and tribulations of this world are to teach and test humanity, and they will remain in this world. One is fuelled by desire for the Hereafter, which will be “better… than the present life.” Islam offers a sense of direction and guidance, and the practice of one's faith can help individuals feel a sense of meaning and purpose in their lives.

Finally, Islam promotes mental health by providing a sense of hope and optimism. Islam teaches that God is merciful and loving, and that He is always present to guide and support believers. This message of divine support and presence can be a powerful source of hope and comfort for individuals who are struggling to cope with trauma, as it serves as a reminder that God will provide and heal, and those who practice patience and gratitude at every turn will soon be content with what He gives them.


In a KidSpirit Interfaith Connections article, teen writer Fatima Shafi shares how her faith as a Muslim has helped her find healing.

By the Glorious Morning Light

Nikita Zinoviev

Ukrainians began to experience violence from Russian soldiers on February 24, 2022.


Violence is the use of physical force so as to injure, abuse, damage, or destroy. 

Other definitions are also used, such as the World Health Organization's definition of violence as "the intentional use of physical force or power, threatened or actual, against oneself,  another person, or against a group or community, which either results in or has a high likelihood of resulting in injury, death, psychological harm, maldevelopment, or deprivation.”  

Ukrainians began to experience violence from Russian soldiers on February 24, 2022. Most of us woke up because of the loud explosions nearby at about 5:00 am. All the plans to go to school or work were left in our previous peaceful life. A lot of people had to leave their homes to save themselves. 

There were innumerable traffic jams all over the country. The growing panic was seen and felt all over Ukraine. Nobody could believe that the war had started. However, destroyed  buildings, tanks in the streets, flying helicopters in the sky, and the air alarm everywhere were extremely convincing. Burned cars and dead bodies looked like the scene of a thriller in the movies. Everybody hoped this film would be over in two hours or less. 

My family and I live in Kyiv. There were a lot of people who did not want to leave the city. My parents and I were among them. The authorities had persuaded Ukrainians to prepare their emergency backpacks in case of possible “provocations” from our “brotherhood countries.” An interesting fact was that we packed the Go Bags a day before the war started. Luckily, my mother had listened to her intuition and put the most important things in our rucksacks. However, we did not want to leave the city despite the difficult circumstances. We did not want to go away even when we had to stand in line for 3-4  hours at the store to buy bread. Though the queues were mercilessly shot! How to go? Where to go? This is my city! The place I love! It seemed like a dream… It will not last long… I wanted to believe it so much! 

There were air alarms 4-5 times during the night! Anxiety! Going to the shelter: basement, the corridor without the windows or subway stations. Each night was turning into a nightmare. The sound of death-bearing planes and helicopters and rockets caused fear and panic. Every day the situation became worse and more difficult. The lack of electricity, heat, and water especially affected our lives. Charging and using the phone was another challenge, and calling friends and relatives was a daily journey to places where we found a reliable connection. 

My mother and I had to leave the city in March 2022. I had been away for six weeks and they were the worst ones. Let me skip telling you about them because this period was the most painful in my life. Seeing countless dead bodies everywhere around will stay in my memory forever. 

In a very short period of time my mom and I were really eager to go back to our native city, which is mutilated and scarred, but so dear and beloved. We had to wait for our Ukrainian Armed Forces to drive the enemy away from the outskirts of the city, and until it was possible to return. The waiting time stretched incredibly long. 

Luckily, our apartment was fine, though it was extremely intense to see all the destruction around. Numerous people all over the country had lost their homes. Nevertheless, all Ukrainians have combined their efforts to volunteer because it is important to help those who are in need. There are a lot of public organizations all over the country. They are working with the remaining youth and community residents to unite them and teach them how to engage in service activities. Volunteers are conducting events within the framework of the "Country of Free People." There are special centers that feed people hot food, distribute supplies, and share clothes for different seasons. Lots of people organize free master-classes for children of diverse age groups. There are a lot of board game clubs, English and German courses, music classes, ping-pong and fencing clubs, folk and ballroom dance classes, and many more. They are free and looking for support from donors and caring people to help out more children. Every "thank you" is like a battery that gives us strength to move forward! 

Ukrainians are doing everything possible to bring our common Victory closer, and believe that this Victory is almost won. We will rebuild! Everything will be even better than it was. We hope we will become better than we were. And we will be free– we will be Ukraine! 

Resources used: 
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Violence

In a KidSpirit Awesome Moments article, teen writer Nikita Zinoviev shares his experience of the war in Ukraine.

Violence and Healing: We Can Not Give Up

Ayza Afridi

Nazia, a 20-year-old mother of two is preparing a meal for her family when she collapses in the oppressive heat that is par for the course in her hometown. Having the enviable status of experiencing 122 degrees Fahrenheit over the past four successive summers, Jacobabad residents share an inside joke “when we go to hell, we shall take blankets.” Today, Jacobabad has exceeded 123.8 degrees Fahrenheit and has become one of the hottest inhabited places on planet Earth. Sadly, for Nazia, the city’s primary health care is no match for her condition, and she succumbs to the heat while lying on a make-shift stretcher in the partial shade of a poorly funded women’s community health center, her six-month-old daughter wailing next to her while her husband Ali looks on helplessly.

A day later, in a parallel world, I was dragged out of bed during a perfectly good Sunday morning sleep for a beach clean-up by a straw hat donned mom. As a well-known local crusader, she has been instrumental in developing my interest in the environment. We have regularly teamed up for neighborhood garbage collection drives and I have watched her participate in city council on a myriad of civic issues. An avid reader of Rachel Carson, little did I know how directly the doomsday prophecy of climate change was about to unfold in front of me.

Most pregnant women in Jacobabad describe their lives as akin to being on “Death Row.” Pregnant or not, they spend the better part of the day in the fields with their young ones playing under make-shift blanket shade. The evening shade brings a semblance of relief as they gather on their mud roofs to catch whatever breeze nature may provide. 

Since the beginning of March, an unprecedented heat wave has gripped India and Pakistan, affecting more than a billion people on the subcontinent. Jacobabad has been among the worst hit, experiencing temperatures in excess of 100 degrees Fahrenheit for 51 straight days, pushing the limits of human survivability. Humidity conspires with the heat to make living conditions more oppressive. 

Perversely, climate change has recently dealt Jacobabad a different mortal blow.  In August 2022 (a mere three months after Nazia’s heat-induced death), Jacobabad was also engulfed by Pakistan’s super flood as melting glaciers combined with abnormal rains caused swollen rivers to burst their banks and enter the baking cities of Sindh. Jacobabad, a city compared to a human furnace in May, is now modern-day Atlantis with over 100 residents drowning, including 40 children. Over 500 people were dead from water borne diseases in the first 30 days since impact. Death Row turned into swift execution.

Ali is a prime example of thousands of people with similar heart-wrenching stories. He was spared the agony of seeing his home crumble under the weight of the mighty River Indus, and shortly after Nazia’s death, he left his children with his sister to travel 340 km south to Karachi in search of work. 

Karachi, a throbbing metropolis of over 25 million is the economic nerve center of Pakistan; a melting pot for all to try their luck at striking gold. With no education or formal skills other than tending to livestock, Ali soon found himself as part of a small-time motor-bike theft gang. When the floods arrived, an influx of climate refugees entered the city, providing a fillip to the criminal activities already prevalent. Ali’s gang expanded to snatching cellular phones and wallets from commuters stuck in potholes left by the rains on Karachi’s dilapidated infrastructure. 

While my mother introduced me to the importance of educating the educated about civic responsibility, my father has shown me the value of giving back to the community. He serves on the Board of Karachi’s Kidney Center Hospital (TKCI), providing free care to those that need it. Over dinner on the same fateful weekend of May 14th , 2022, he had excitedly shared the news of hiring a bright young professional to head the HR function of TKCI.

Meanwhile, given his growing prowess, Ali was awarded a gun to target the more affluent cars. On September 1, 2022, as Karachi too was being lashed by mighty monsoon rains, Ali received news that his younger son had died of complications from Dengue fever in water ravaged Jacobabad. Raging against nature, and humanity (or the lack of it), Ali came across a young family sitting in their car outside a popular ice cream parlor in the city.

Ali, with a careless finger on the trigger, rapped on the window and demanded the usual cellular phones. The young man (yes, the same young man recently appointed by my father to work at TKCI) in the driver’s seat had a 6-year-old son in the back and a one-year-old infant lying in the lap of his mother in the front seat. Ali was reminded of his family that he lost, and unable to control his demons, or perhaps triggered by an untimely rumble of thunder, the gun went off. 

Another innocent life taken, another family destroyed. Climate change statistics will surely not account for this death. A few days later, Ali was caught in a belated police action against the upsurge in Karachi Street crime. As Ali contemplated Death Row, the local and global headlines occupied themselves with images of climate change induced flooding in Pakistan with over a third of its land mass submerged, 33 million people displaced, and over 1 million livestock and over 2,000 humans dead and counting. However, mere statistics do not do justice to the magnitude of the disaster unfolding. Over 150 countries have total populations of less than those displaced in a matter of weeks in Pakistan, and each one of these families is now living on Death Row with a choice of famine, water borne disease, or exposure to the elements as their form of lethal injection.

The youngest Pakistanis are the most at risk. Routine gives children a sense of security, and youngsters who have seen their lives upended overnight by a cataclysmic event, with no end in sight to the disruption, are at enormous risk for post-traumatic stress disorder. It dooms millions of children to a future in which they will never achieve their full potential. Learning of the sad fate of the TKCI HR head, I engaged my peer group to collaborate in two meaningful ways to combat the climate-change induced crisis. First, we used our school’s alumni network that runs an education fund to ensure that both children of the young man killed by Ali were awarded full scholarships (including books, uniforms and transportation) for the remainder of their primary and secondary education.

Second, we joined hands with the city’s climate council to seed over a dozen urban forests within a 15km radius. This will not bring back Nazia or her child or perhaps even save Ali from a life behind bars. However, this will instill a sense of urgency for all of us to fight the “terror of climate change.”

As I witnessed these events and their horrific consequences unfolding, I pondered over the reality of climate change for weeks. Despite the media reports and numerous articles, I, along with most of peers have been unable to grasp the seriousness of this issues until the treacherous floods came our way. Going forward, Pakistan’s children must be at the heart of the rehabilitation effort, otherwise, Death Row may run out of room.

In a KidSpirit Helping Hands article, teen writer Ayza Afridi shares how her community came together to fight climate change.

Death Row

Konrad Tittel


Like an ember from a dying yet persisting fire, racial injustice continues to plague our society. 

It has left a scarlet stain on our nation, one which even the most heroic, powerful, bold movements of civil rights activists failed to fully expunge. However, by conveying these lingering issues through a more digestible and influential medium like movies, one can more easily inspire change. In her film “Till” (October 2022 debut), Nigerian-American film director Chinonye Chukwu sparks a newfound urge to reform persisting racial discrimination by weaving a narrative rooted in emotion and, consequently, a desire for justice.

Based on true events, the movie centers around the racially-provoked murder of an African American teenager named Emmett Till (Jaylyn Hall) and his mother Mamie Till’s (Danielle Deadwyler) subsequent fight for justice. Growing up in Chicago, an atmosphere starkly contrasted to the still deeply racist South, Emmett lived a normal, care-free childhood - one not plagued with constant fear. Thus, when Mamie’s mother Alma proposes that Emmett visit his southern kin in Mississippi, an incessant fear for her son’s safety and his loss of innocence is instilled within Mamie. In the first scene, Chuckwu alludes to this dilemma plaguing Mamie’s mind through her eloquent manipulation of sound. The two are depicted driving in a car while a light, warm atmosphere hangs overhead, bright smiles lining their faces, an uplifting melody filling the air; yet, the music gradually devolves into incomprehensible blather, and Mamie's smile slowly withers into a blank, distressed expression. With only one scene, Chukwu’s subtle yet pungent use of sound, and Deadwyler’s unmatched ability to project emotion, effectively set the stage for the movie. Mamie repeatedly warns Emmett of the danger lurking in the south, of the differences in the treatment of African Americans, telling him to “be small.” Yet her attempts all end in Emmett’s characteristically teenage response to being told what to do: gentle mockery, and overlooking the weight of what is being said - yet another instance in the film when acting unveils a deeper underlying meaning. Before he leaves, the two dance together to Emmett’s favorite song, smiles lining their faces as they glide through the room where a child-like wallpaper is juxtaposed with the tragedy soon to unfold. Chukwu does not include such subtle details throughout this half of the film without reason; by painting a picture of a boy who has, to this point, lived a regular, innocent teenage life, the events following his arrival in Mississippi become all the more tragic. 

During the train ride there, Emmett watches, captivated, as fields of cattle and cotton fly by, shining under the bright sun; yet the beauty of Chukwu’s cinematography here merely masks the horrors present underneath. From the moment he sets foot upon a southern cotton field, it becomes clear that Emmett does not belong amongst his kin. Rather than picking the cotton, he instead plays with his cousins, sternly stating that he is “done picking these fields.” Hall’s very deliberate choice of persona here - contrasting the dark history lingering, hibernating upon the cotton fields - reflects exactly what this excursion is in Emmett’s eyes: a mere vacation to have fun with his cousins. Mamie’s perspective further heightens this dramatic undertone. In frequent instances throughout this segment, she is seen struggling to cope with the relentless dread propagated by her son’s absence. In one scene, Mamie sits with her friends late at night, playing cards and drinking. With a foreboding tone, she states, “If my son could just get his feet back onto the Chicago soil, he’d be one happy kid,” an eerily powerful use of dramatic irony. 

Only three days after arriving in Mississippi, Emmett’s naiveté prevails, and he flirts with a white cashier named Carolyn Bryant, proclaiming that she looks “like a moviestar.” Embodying the racial beliefs shared by the deep south at the time, Bryant feels threatened by this remark. Yet the true consequences of Emmet’s actions are revealed three days after the incident when the boys awaken to a loud banging at the door, a rude awakening akin to Emmett’s abrupt realization of the true horrors of racism. Chukwu’s use of silence here, yet another display of diverse repertoire of sound usage throughout the film, plays an impactful role in emphasizing the looming dread within the room. A group of armed white men barge into the house, wielding blindingly bright lights, and forcibly yank Emmett outside. All the while, Chukwu solemnly depicts everyone’s helpless gaze as Emmett, confused and unaware of his impending doom, is hoisted from their home - an innocent boy falling victim to the wrath of racial oppression.

The latter half of the film highlights a potent dynamic between trauma and action as a means of healing, an enthralling showcase of Danielle Deadwyler’s pungent role as Mamie. In one notable scene, Chukwu depicts a desolate Mamie whose visible despair is accentuated by Deadwyler’s superb acting; all the while, Abel Korzeniowski’s masterfully composed music plays overhead, prompting a wave of catharsis to wash over the audience. Yet, she later transforms her trauma into a motivator for change. Refusing to “fix up” Emmett’s lynched body, she instead puts it on display for all the world to see - to break away from the delusion of comfort in the north and finally take action. It is then that, through her willpower and strength, she molds her lingering trauma and despair into an impetus for change, to finally escape the cage she placed herself into and to draw out the darkness by bringing reality to light. In this way, Chukwu’s production illustrates the powerful theme of trauma as a spur for action.

Thus, “Till” embodies a work whose filmatic building blocks - cinematography, sound, acting, and screenplay - meld beautifully together to clearly convey its overarching themes. Throughout the movie, Chukwu’s acute understanding of sound in conjunction with Korzeniowski’s ability to portray emotion in the medium of music not only reveal hidden thematic details within scenes, but also greatly complement the already delicate, emotional, riveting acting within the film. In addition, dialogue rooted in sentiment further draws forth presiding thematic ideas, such as Emmett’s innocent, enthusiastic tone solemnly juxtaposed with the screams of pain, of rude awakening marked by his subsequent lynching. Yet it is Chukwu’s captivating cinematography which shines brightest, conjuring images of picturesque landscapes to underscore the darkness they conceal, of bright flashlight beams piercing the comfortable darkness, the ignorance in which Emmett resided.

By weaving powerful themes of change and healing throughout the plot, tinged by Chinnoye Chukwu’s profound understanding of emotion and sound, the movie “Till” is an impactful debut. A film rich in narrative and oozing with riveting cinematography - it deserves no less than 5 stars. Throughout the film, Chukwu echoes the message that the fight for racial equality is still a persisting effort; in a poignant message to conclude the movie, she writes that the Emmett Till Anti-Lynching Act was not signed until 2022 - 67 years after his lynching, 67 years of bloodshed, 67 years of an unyielding fight for freedom, 67 years of change.

In a KidSpirit Media Review, teen writer Konrad Tittel reviews the movie "Till."

A Traumatic Ember

Vincent Chang

A short story inspired by the Laxdæla Saga

The patter of rainwater droned against the distant rumble of ice. Not a shadow disturbed the nave of the little seaside chapel save two figures, man and woman, illumined by a little candle.

“Mother, I know you sometimes cry to the songs of the midnight bells. Sister told me that she oft prayed together with you, two shadows kneeled on the salt-crusted floorboards a few feet away. You insisted on building this church, even after our trading ship capsized off the south shore, drowning my stepfather and most of the timber, too. But by now your ways are too well known to me. You, Gudrun, are perhaps the most determined of all the women of Laxadal. So often have I wondered about your other three husbands, how they came to be worthy of your hand, and their particulars.”

The son paused, awaiting some reply. Then, as if seized by a sudden spark of spirit, asked, “Will you tell me something, Mother, that I’m curious to know? Which man did you love the most?

You tell me little about your first husband. I remember, whenever we asked about his stories before bedtime, your eyes flashed with a pale flicker of some kind of distant struggle. Sister later told me of his unkindness to you, but I could never sense how the most hard-headed of men might cause you pain. Or rather, how his love-seeking was not cut short in your usual, forthright way. But regarding him I have nothing more to ask, for he is nothing but a few gold rings and a headdress in my memory.”

Gudrun tilted her head and closed her eyes. Her face tightened under the soft light of the candles, as if she had finally recalled something she had longed to forget. There was the soft trickle of a stream, the sound of people clamoring and muttering. In her dream she felt that a large, bejeweled headdress was placed upon her head, that she was pacing rather quickly beside the quick waters, feet leaving impressions in the sand. “O, the way she sparkles!” Gudrun heard them say.  But she felt trapped and weighed down; all the masses of silks and gold bore down on her determined head and made her stumble. The more she swayed, the more they cheered. In an instant the blood rushed to her cheeks and she flung the headdress away and into the rushing waters. Jewels gleaming, silks rippling in water, the gold lace flashing like a head of golden hair. 

Then she saw him in that stream, half-limp from the fatigue of struggling. Though he loomed above his executioners like a bear amid wolves, all the spirit was gone from his fair-haired face. She saw a whirl of blades, heard him roar and yelp. Then he was struggling like a piece of waterlogged cloth, dragged down, down into the depths until all that was left of her first husband was the tattered shirt she had woven for him, stained with deep crimson and trodden with mud. She felt little remorse for that brute of a man. She smiled.

Her son continued on with his questions, hardly disturbed by any of this. It was dark, after all. The first stars peeked over the Breidafjord, twinkling above the waves.

“It was said that the second man was skilled in law. That the nerves in his left arm were severed by the attack of his previous wife, blinded by grief and jealousy. It was said that you pulled the strings in his divorce, and married him soon after. Was it true, then, that it was fate which wanted him dead? You look down at the mentioning of his name, and rub your hands together, as if waiting for something that was so long gone that even you cannot remember. He was your second husband, and you spent a year together before he was drowned and you became pregnant. But wasn’t the sea calm that night?”

Gudrun chuckled, smoothed her shawl, and nodded a little, milky eyes twinkling like the stars behind her. 

“Of my own father, I have no qualms. Bolli is perhaps the second-most suitable match in all of Iceland. I was brought to the world the winter his blood spattered onto your shawl. He and his half-brother Kjartan, the latter of whom I have been taught to hate. Time has made me wiser now than in youth, and of Father’s life and works I know enough. Yes, Father was a well-mannered and valiant man. It was an honor to avenge him. But Mother, what of Kjartan have you withheld from me? From rumors I hear that Kjartan Olafsson was the most esteemed man in the whole country. Tell me, Mother. Why did Father draw his sword upon the brother he loved most dear? Was it true that you loved Kjartan more than Father himself? Was it true, Mother, that you asked for his hand in secret? And when he declined, his head?”

Her eyes now had a far-away look to them. Gudrun lifted her head, her throat bobbed, and she clenched her fists. Bolli, the young protégée from the farmstead in the West, firm-chested and radiant from youth. Bolli the King of Norway’s emissary, dressed in a robe of crimson and white, a silver sword gleaming at his thigh, auburn hair shimmering. With his heart full of fiery rage. Bolli, arms wound tight around the neck of his brother Kjartan, both men with wounds gaping, with blood rushing like strands of ribbon down their brows. And it was then that Gudrun felt something snap deep in her chest, and a bitter, bitter liquid seep into her mouth. All those memories then went by in a flash. She remembered Bolli’s warmth, the smell of sweet wine and woodsmoke on his lips. With her husband’s ship barely on the horizon, Gudrun saw herself lying in that tent, Kjartan beside her, murmuring the language of love. Time swept past and she now saw Bolli’s face, red with the shame of dishonor as he clenched his fists at her hints and prompts. Kjartan, he murmured, that twig-bellied rogue. He scrambled for his sword and stormed into the open air. She saw herself sneak a smile of satisfaction. Gudrun suddenly felt sick. 

At last she felt the smell of incense and moss, saw a young lady nestled between two fresh graves. One for her husband and one for her lover, her dearest friend. And how she wept, that young widow, clawing at her hands as if to strip away all the crusted blood that was never there. 

The toll of the midnight bells was deep and sonorous. Speak, they whispered, speak and be free. Seizing the sleeves of her dress, she opened her mouth and began.

“Well. I should start from the beginning. Thorvald was a brutish kind of man . . . I do not want to speak any more of him. Soon afterward I was wedded to Thord, the law-speaker and the wisest of them all. Then came your own father, Bolli, the most powerful chieftain Laxadal has ever seen. His death cast a dark shadow. All you heard of Kjartan and that feud . . . I cannot remember. My last husband, your stepfather Thorkel, was drowned by a storm. That is all. “

Her son huffed and sighed, ran a hand through his auburn hair. 

“But then, dearest Mother. You have yet to answer whom you loved the most.” 

“You press me hard on this point, my son. If I wished to say this to anyone, you would be the one I would choose.”

She paused a little. The very walls seemed to hold in their breath.  

“I was worst to the one I loved best.”

*Author’s Note: The Saga of the People of Laxardalr, or the Laxdæla Saga, is a sweeping view of the families in the Laxadal region of Iceland following five generations of love, feud, and grief. The story centers around the love triangle between Kjartan, Bolli, and Gudrun. As a young Viking-Age mother, Gudrun raises her son to avenge his father’s slaying, but she dies a Christian anchoress in a completely different ethical world. This piece attempts to encapsulate the last moments of the saga, when the heroine Gudrun, now old and weak, converses with her son about her youthful times, and unravels her final epiphany.

In a KidSpirit Fiction piece, teen writer Vincent Chang reimagines the Laxadalr Saga, an Icelandic tale of love, betrayal, and death.

The Four Lovers of Gudrun

Avishi Gurnani

Fluttering on the daisies, 
A butterfly in the breeze,
Sunlight dancing off its wings
A merry existence
Life, oh, so short
For those discontent
Yet enough for those 
Who choose to explore,
Give it a meaning
The rest, who knows?
People with their last breath

End their journey with me, Death
Singular,
Not plural
Not mass murder
Not the falling of bodies,
Littering of corpses on the battlefield
Not the final moment for
Tens, hundreds, thousands
At one behest
At one strike of a missile
Not the ally of a virus
That has changed the world 
Not wanting to watch, where should I look
As she is separated from her child, forever
As he leaves his family to fight the war
Unwilling, unknowing, unprepared
As countries point blame
Homes go up in a funeral flame

A coin has two sides
Two faces, two personas
With one purpose, like me
To walk the journey is destiny
From the first to the last breath
Even as destruction rages around
I wish to sidestep schools 
To not be forced to pass by the playground
The daisies on the field blossoming
With hope, like they should
With life, like they should

In a KidSpirit poem, teen poet Avishi Gurnani asks us to allow life to blossom while it can.

Death’s Plea

Nubiana Smiley


Humor is a tool for someone that may feel empty and shallow as if they’re missing a half. Things that may sound stupid or silly release that negativity just by making them laugh.

Expressive movement can be a way to move the body or even just a stance. Imagine tension, pain and stress all flowing away through the motion of a dance.

Affirmations. Stand in the mirror; say something positive. You can let down your front. Speak words of self- love and appreciation. Just try it even if it’s it once. 

Listening to music can help you understand your feelings and relate to someone who may know. It connects to you specifically and wants to help you grow.

Independent prayer is a way to connect directly with God. He gives you guidance and protects you, sending you back on your journey with an approving nod. 

Nurturing yourself takes time and investment allowing yourself to enjoy the things you love. Once you’ve given back to yourself, you’ll feel as free as a dove.

Guided meditation can make you feel relaxed and calm. Sit for a moment and be at ease. It won’t do you any harm.

Take the time to heal and show yourself some love as we approach a new spring.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen writer Nubiana Smiley reflects on the process of healing.

Healing

Khaled Ghlilat


There is a city splattered with blood, where a lot of crimes are being committed. 

Many families migrate to stay alive, and many houses are abandoned, but the question is: how can we prevent a malignant person from committing a crime?

No one can face an armed man barehanded, and that is the problem. It’s hard to evacuate all of the people, but how else can we find a solution?

There isn’t anything surprising in this city, you must expect everything in this rude place full of malignant people. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a blue sky, now I just see a sky that reflects violence—raised on wrong thoughts, racism, and a hundred reasons that would make people murderers.

A man full of wisdom, with a cigarette between his fingers, has all the solutions in his hands. How can we find him and talk with him? 

Trying to find his house, we must emphasize that he is trustworthy. Asking and asking, taking opinions and trying to escape this nightmare, trying to stay alive. Before we go to the man’s house, we must be sure that our family is safe. How can we do that? I think we must risk a lot to find a solution. Tears are dropping down, but we must take this bold step. We’ve started to travel; we’ve started the journey….

We are suffering a lot on this journey, and we aren’t sure if it will succeed, if we’ll return, or if our families will be okay. But we must continue, we mustn’t let our feelings stop us. Finally, we arrive. Who is this man? When we enter, we realize that he’s a witch. 

“Have a seat,” he says. We are so nervous, but we must stay solid. We tell him the city’s name, and he already knows our problems. “Give me a week and I’ll give you a solution.” 

Fire is burning underneath us, we can’t wait… In one week, he calls us back. We are so nervous, but when we enter and see him smiling, we calm down a little bit. 

“The problem is in their minds; we must start healing them in a specific way.” We are sure that he’ll find a way to heal them, because he’s a witch, but he must hurry up. 

“I can find a solution but all of you must go with me for it to succeed.” 

“There is a spirit from another world, and I can’t go alone, if you want the magic to succeed come with me,” he says in a scary voice. We are so anxious, but a lot of people say that he’s green-thumbed in magic. Let us go and rely on him.

“Tomorrow we must start our biggest journey,” he says. 

“What’s the spirit, and what are we going to do with it and what’s the plan?” 

In the morning when we wake up, he brings a boat and a few spirits that will help us travel to the second world. When we get on the boat, he tells us, “the spirit that we want to get will make the people peaceful, and I’m going to let it rain.” 

“How could you let the clouds rain?” 

“I’ll tell you later, but we must go now…”

We start to move; he wants to go to a place where there isn’t anyone living. When we arrive, and before doing magic, he gives us a compass and says, “there is a possibility to get lost so use the compass to go to the north.”

When he does the magic a lot of things change. I am confused and panicked, I don’t feel right, and I’m losing my consciousness. When I wake up, I don’t see anyone around me. I hear a lot of voices and I’m listening. I’m bleeding and I must move. I remember that the witch gave me a compass to go to the north. Let me use it. I’m walking in a world where everything is terrifying, but I must cope with it. I’ve entered a place that looks like a forest in our world, I ought to expect that anything that could happen. Out of the blue, I see a shadow behind me and someone calls my name. I am frightened and I start to run. He starts to chase me and I hide behind a tree. After a few seconds he sees me and says, “stop hiding, I'm your friend.” 

When I see him, he says, “when we traveled to this world something weird happened that made us get lost, but let us go north like the magician said.”

We start walking, trying to avoid any creature that could cause any kind of damage or hurt us. We feel that something is keeping an eye on us. Instantaneously, a creature appears and I let out a scream.

“It’s not safe here, we must walk faster,” my friend says. We return to walking, expecting everything, and I find a book on the ground. It’s a guide-book for this vague world. When I begin reading the book, the creature appears again, but this time it goes behind me and wants to jump at me. Fortunately, the witch appears and eliminates it. 

“This world is a game, if you aren’t strong enough, you’ll get eliminated," the witch says. “Now let’s continue our journey.”

While we are walking the magician says, “the book that you thought will guide you is cursed, and it’s made to distract you. Regardless, we’ve arrived. That rock must be broken, and then we’ll take what’s inside it to make the spirit.” We start smashing the rock, when it has been broken, a powder falls out that looks like concrete. “And now we’ve got the solution, let us return to our world and implement the method.” 

As we travel back to our original world, the witch says, “when we return to our world, don’t go out in the evening. I’ll go up to the sky and make magic up there to make it rain”.

“That’s clear, but what are you doing now?” 

“Abracadabra… and now we’ve returned! Go to your house and stay in it until tomorrow morning.” 

“My house is so far away, let me go to my friend’s house until tomorrow morning.” 

At dawn, a very heavy rain is falling, every drop of rain looks like a shining pearl. When it stops raining, I know that I can return to my house. Let me see my family now. On the way to my house, I see my neighbor and he tells me that the city became peaceful, but unfortunately, my family was murdered.  


In a KidSpirit fiction piece, teen writer Khaled Ghlilat writes about a quest to find peace.

The Quest for Peace

Kaius Carson Powers


They had a drink.
Afterwards 
no one knew what good ol Smith felt
Before—
Before the drinks were brought

Cock the rifle (step one)
“Easy enough”
He pointed it towards the confederate boy

The boy had fear it was easy to show
And good ol Smith did know
What there was to do
In the whirling snow

He lifted his gun and pulled the trigger
The shot rang out in the snow
But the bullet didn’t know where to go
In the whirling snow

Smith reloaded ready to shoot
But then another shot was fired from behind his back
—and hit his head,
the blood was red
In the whirling snow.

They did exactly what their commander said—
Their count was five yankees for the day.
But without dismay they did not know
What good ol Smith was thinking
Before he couldn’t think no more.

But maybe only death will know
In its low and stony hole
Where the future and the past is told
In the whirling snow—

In a KidSpirit poem, teen writer Kaius Carson Powers imagines a scene from the American Civil War.

In The Whirling Snow 

Alonso Blánquez


It’s winter and the old tree,
whose leaves once flew away,
Weak and naive,
conveys the sadness that is prey

There is a man alongside the old tree,
resting in peace, that's me,
I've been there for so much time,
even the cold, the wind, feels sublime

My legs are turning into roots,
and my body cannot move.
My limbs are now boughs
Where the tree sap goes

In a KidSpirit poem, teen writer Alonso Blánquez explores the solace of nature.

The Old Tree

In this powerful issue of KidSpirit, young writers and artists probe the roots of violence and ask how we can move forward after loss and destruction. Are humans inherently violent? How can we resolve our trauma? Does healing mean to forgive or to forget?

Drunk on Moonlit Skies

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