Page 28 - ADU Voice Volume 4 Issue 1

28 • • • FALL 2024
28
“A Snapshot of Chaos”
WRITTEN BY: BUSHRA MOHAMMED ALI (1094356) (AA Campus)
tumbling upon an old Polaroid today, long
buried in a forgotten drawer for years, felt like
Sunlocking a time capsule, instantly unleashing a
flood of memories. Memories of being the youngest
in the chaos, that was my childhood. There they were,
my two elder brothers, standing tall and proud as if they
hadn’t spent most of their childhood conspiring against
me. Don’t let their innocent faces fool you. If pranking
little sister was a sport, these two would have won gold.
They kept me out of their football games and terrified
me with date seeds, which I was convinced were
insects. Honestly, it wasn’t all bad. Sure, I was the
easiest target, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t part of
their chaotic world. We had our moments, those rare
occasions when they’d let me crash their fun. Yet,
on most days, they’d bribe me with treats to keep
me from tagging along for football. On their more
creative days, they spun scary stories about little girls
getting kidnapped, all to ensure I stayed safely away.
And here’s me with my “twin” on a ride, my brother who looks so much like me that
everyonethought we were twins, even though we disagreed. Of course, I couldn’t enjoy the ride
alone; I had to be “supervised.” Not that he cared about my safety; he just wanted to squeeze
in next to me and ensure my fun was thoroughly ruined. Classic elder brother moves, right?
The last photo speaks for itself. I’m the only one smiling, while my brothers
look as serious as ever. Now, surprisingly, over the years, we managed to fit
together in the same frame, with all three of us smiling. Our bond is stronger than
ever, built on love, laughter, and memories that even a date seed couldn’t break.
A.D RUNNERS UP!
2nd:“From the Sea to the his captivating picture was taken
in Lebanon in the courtyard
Sky: The Heart Calls” Tof Harissa Maronite Catholic
Church where the statue “Our Lady of
Lebanon” is overlooking the city of Beirut.
WRITTEN BY: RAYAN AL SAYED (1085628) (AD Campus)
When taking this photo, the first feelings that consumed me were wonder, longing, and pride. I
was overlooking my country’s outstretched boarder as it touches the sea and kisses the sky.
This view is hugged by cedar trees,
their pines ever so visible, creating a
striking image of our Lebanese identity
where we take pride by our cedar lands
and Mediterranean Sea, our captivating
nature and heaven touching mountains.
This view captured my soul, so naturally
I had to freeze it in time. I don’t visit my
country often, for that it’s soil, water, and sky
call out for me every so often and the sense of
freedom overlaps me when I am being hugged
by its air. In the photo you can see how the
nature twirls around the land and how the sea
touches the soil, ever so gentle and always
mesmerizing. Being born Lebanese puts you
in a tornado of emotions from constant spur
of events happening in the country which
makes us like a rising Phoenix, burning,
dying, but always coming back to life to live,
to love, and to continue going forward. When
we are met with such instances, we always
turn back to look at our identity, our ethereal
land that we belong to and the sky that we
look up to, at the sea that we take pride in and
the nature that we envelope ourselves into. For that this photo, for me, has captured everything I am
and will always be, a proud Lebanese and a rising Phoenix that is always so strong and resilient.
3rd :“ Hope Revives All”
WRITTEN BY: MARIYA THARANNUM (1086788) (AD Campus)
I
stand now on deserted ground, left barren And where once there flew birds and butterflies
and bereft. All that color, all that fragrance and bees atop my crown, eating from my fruits
that I grew from my own flesh, now and nectar, singing sweet songs, there is now
snatched away by that evil, evil creature. The silence. Screaming, piercing silence. Some days
wind! She ripped away my treasures, leaving I cry, some days I howl. Other days, I just...exist.
me scarred. She did all this, without feeling an Standing still, unnoticed. Over the span of time,
ounce of pity. She laughed, high and shrill, as this particular activity developed into a habit. I
she tore away each flower like needles being discovered that I rather like the quiet. Like being
plucked. Like the devil having shattered the a mere observer, without interfering with nature.
dreams of little children. My arms, once full I observe sprouts, as they suddenly emerge from
of blooms, now stood awkwardly bare. their seeds, and buds as they slowly unfold