january 2021
ruminate & release
antonym
letter from the editors Madeline Wallace, Caroline Wolfe-Merritt, & Anna Barrett The Elegy in Everything Rachel Rogers the trip's not over Anna Barrett Glorious Typhoon Afia Faiza Shopno things that could've been Madeline Wallace Committing? Caroline Wolfe-Merritt Apophenia Rachel Rogers Not the Musician We Were Promised Christopher Barrett Existential Bookshelf Michael Ferry Taken in Quito, Ecuador Jules Park Retract Saskia Bailey-de Bruijn Ode to Snowflake Saskia Bailey-de Bruijn Space Envision Afia Faiza Shopno present in time Caroline Wolfe-Merritt Longing for a Tint of Blue Rachel Rogers shooting cloud Anna Barrett contributors
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Dear Friends, Well, here we are—already a month into 2021, and so much has happened. As we continue to weather the pandemic across our respective parts of the globe, each of us must confront challenges, macro and micro alike. If there's one thing we're united in, it's the uncertainties that populate our days. When it came time to review this issue's submissions, we were struck by their consideration of the individual in the context of a greater whole. These pieces were undeniably existential, but beneath them thrummed a quiet beauty, as well as an unmistakable hope. That's how we settled on this issue's theme of ruminate & release. Not only does this speak to our collective present, it also thematically echoes the month of January, a time for fresh starts, resolutions, and exhalations: breathe in, ponder, hold, and release. We are delighted to share this lovely work with you, and we look forward to what the upcoming months hold. By our next issue, you can expect to see some fresh faces on antonym's team, as we're currently recruiting new editors. It's a privilege to be in the position to do this, and all of it is thanks to your unyielding support. Sending you our wishes for your wellness, Madeline Wallace, Caroline Wolfe-Merritt, & Anna Barrett
Cover “Soul on Fire" | Sonia Charales antonym logo | Micaela Levesque Digital design software | Lucidpress January Editors | Anna Barrett, Madeline Wallace, & Caroline Wolfe-Merritt
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letter from the editors
Rachel Rogers
The Elegy in Everything
Hidden in the rainbow blur of highway graffiti, yellowed with age in the margins of a coverless book, carved in the bark of countless cherry trees; a silent supplication. Here is the centuries-old plea of humanity. Through infinite small actions, unconscious or purposeful, we force our stories to endure. I was Here written shakily on a plastic playground slide and the rickety door of a gas station bathroom. I was Here A defiant promise, pushing back against the doldrums of time and forgetfulness. A ubiquitous resolve We refuse to disappear.
Glorious Typhoon
Afia Faiza Shopno
the trip's not over
In my vast sky, you are the only moon; Ooh mother! you are the sunshine of my afternoon; In my channel, you are the only cartoon; Ooh mother! you are my favorite macaroon; In my prevalence, you are the only doubloon; Ooh mother! you are my rainbow balloon; In my garment, you are the only shalloon; Ooh mother! you are the flower of monsoon.
Anna Barrett
things that could've been
my interest is a half moon waning fickle temperamental cool and silvery when suspended in a moment of levity or a star-winking night the times when it comes alive bright with potential and promise and hope but then: stifled like a hand clamped tight over my lips and though I bite its skin leaving crescent trails for inspection once I’m through the moment all I find are perfect curving lines that speak the same truth: perhaps I’m just defective and in them I place shapes of all the things that could’ve been
Madeline Wallace
Caroline Wolfe-Merritt
Committing?
Christopher Barrett
I spilled my coffee this morning; an accident, absent minded slip up. Today, though, the spreading spot on my sweater is a sign. Punishment for being too lazy to do my laundry last night. Speckled blemish as universal reprimand. An arrogant concept to say the least, but a human one nonetheless. Playing connect-the-dots is what we do best, rejecting happenstance for shaky significance. Lives must permeate deeper than cloth. Stars are imbued with symbology so they shine for, not above, beyond reach or understanding. We draw lines between them, form constellations, find patterns as if the world would unravel without them. I’ll spill out resolution until every thread is soaked in meaning, stained with hope.
Not the Musician We Were Promised
Apophenia
This is the beginning. Before the beginning there was only blank space; an infinite, empty margin. Letters were organized in a specific order and became words. The words began to fill pages. Each sentence described an emotion, fear, or philosophy. Pages were bound in flesh and placed on a shelf in a specific corner of an immense bookstore. Many books were written, similar in design, identical in purpose. When the authors saw the miracle and power of their words on the page, more copies were made. The bookshelf was soon filled. It is conceivable that a single author wrote every book on the shelf, but the immense variety in themes, styles, complexity, flavors, dimensions, bindings, and colors suggests the work of many hands. If the author could guarantee that each copy of their book would be loved and cared for, cherished, and passed from one generation to the next, she would give her own life to do so. She cannot. The author understood before she began writing that this was beyond her power; she holds the power of creation but relinquishes control of the book when it is placed on the shelf. The author cannot possibly watch over every copy. Some books are purchased, borrowed, highlighted, pages dog-eared, carried from place to place. Conversely, many books go unread or may be mistreated. Some books are neglected. Some books are burned. Each book is a part of something much greater, though this is not always clear to the inhabitants of the bookshelf. Theories of origin and purpose have been debated from the very beginning of the bookstore. Many books are driven to simply acquire and occupy as much space as possible, even if it means forcing others off the shelf. Their unending quest to have more than those around them serves as a distraction from whatever might be beyond their immediate surroundings. Some suggest that their time on the bookshelf is simply a test. They must endure their existence patiently until the spontaneous arrival of a grand future. A promise of great glory with uncertain details is their motivation, achievable through unquestioning belief and strict obedience. Those that leave the shelf and travel outside of their limited circles may gain a more accurate understanding of their existence. Despite their differences, every book was created for the same essential purposes: capturing, sharing, and expressing individual passions and ideas. Each book may impart emotion, intelligence, and understanding through the stories, facts, and philosophies written on their pages. There may be hundreds, thousands, or even millions of copies of a book in existence but this does not diminish its importance. The message of the book is not diluted with replication but may, in fact, be augmented by its ability to influence more people. The best books, while simple in appearance, contain a universe of complexity within. The words extend beyond the page. The merit of a book—good or bad, meaningful or superfluous—depends heavily on the individual consumer. A specific arrangement of words may impact one person profoundly yet have no effect for another. Some books receive great acclaim; they may be recognized immediately for their brilliance, acclaimed for their insight, or they may receive rewards. Some books are bestsellers and fly off the shelves, but for the overwhelming majority of books, this is not the case. A book may sit on a shelf for years, untouched, unnoticed, gathering dust. A book may find itself in the clearance bin or the discount carts outside on the sidewalk. The book may wonder at times if it will spend its entire existence without ever being noticed. However, this may be exactly the place that it is destined to be. Many readers are not looking for the bestseller or the same thing that everyone else is reading. Someone may come along specifically looking for a book that lives on the back shelf; one that is a few years old, that they never saw on a commercial or a pop-up ad. There are readers who refuse to follow the trends and seek something completely outside of what is popular, with a great story and brilliant language, even if the cover art is not flashy. The books in the back may be used, they may be dusty or have damaged covers, but these are often the most beautiful. When they are finally discovered and taken home, they will be loved. They are destined to find a place with a reader who will relate to being labeled as different, special, or strange. These books become more than a beach read: they will make an impression; they will make a difference. There are many books who frankly don’t give a shit if they are ever bought, read, perused, or handled by anybody. These books feel perfectly comfortable remaining on a shelf or in a stack, confident in their purpose and what they represent. They don’t depend on someone else to tell them that they are good. Their sense of fulfillment is independent of being “selected” or praised by someone else. These books don’t rely on what others consider to be validation. Their value is self-contained and internally established. They know the brilliance that is within their pages and would actually prefer to spend all of their time in a bookstore rather than going home with a stranger. Every story comes to an end. After the final page turns the book is over, but the best books are remembered and read again. It might be given to a child, shared with a friend, or even be cited in another volume. In this sense, a book may live on and become a part of something else.
Existential Bookshelf
Michael Ferry
Jules Park
Taken in Quito, Ecuador
Ode to Snowflake
Saskia Bailey-de Bruijn
Oh, snowflake, mirror of my own compounding complexity you are perfection frozen in a beam of morning sunlight; a recollection and remembrance of the beauty that has been fractal inspiration for a fully individuated form who you are has never been before, and will never be again so let me glimpse your absolution once more Oh, snowflake, what is left when the sun grows stronger? where is your singular geometry then? you are simply a droplet of water, formed to your soul’s calling then blown back to oblivion, from whence we all came and where i fear to go Oh, snowflake, may i glisten as you do capturing the rapt attention, as the morning dew does, for your honest expression of your one true form a sparkle, a crystal of hope, if only for just a breath
Retract
Space is unseen to many in real life. Outer Space is not completely empty. It can be very fantastical, if we assume: "Envision, create and believe in your own space, and the envision will form around you" —adapted from Tony Hsieh This painting is an imaginative depiction. "Imagination is more important than knowledge, knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world." —Albert Einstein
Space Envision
I beg my skin to turn a shade of blue as clouds smother all noise with silent snow. I want to be covered in quiet, too. Imploring body’s heat to fade and fast else crystals quickly melt to noisy tears so I beg my skin to turn a shade of blue. The highway rush, constant clamour at last gone. Enveloped so gracefully; I know I want to be covered in quiet, too. Snowflakes spiral down, slowly they amass around angel wings, missing me although I beg my skin to turn a shade of blue. All is hushed and new, and vast A remnant of an anxious world alone waits to be covered in this quiet, too. Eyelashes white with frost and ice outlast the stinging cold until kind numbness grows. I beg my skin to turn a shade of blue I want to be covered in quiet, too.
present in time
Longing for a Tint of Blue
shooting cloud
is a senior at Earlham College, and is an amateur photographer. They have been taking photos here and there for awhile, and they enjoy finding the beauty in everyday life. They hope you enjoy their work!
is a student who enjoys writing poetry and sometimes making art in her spare time.
is a recent college graduate, someday agent, book enthusiast, and antonym editor.
Sonia Charales
is from Bangladesh and studies in 7th grade. As an enthusiastic young girl, she loves to perform maximum types of co-curriculum activities such as painting, crafting, story writing, etc. She is multi-talented and has won many international prizes across the world. She is the elder daughter of her very supportive parents, Fahmida Osman and Osman Khan.
is an aspiring ecologist with a passion for birds, amphibians, and conservation! She enjoys hiking, birding, and nature photography, and is excited to share some photos with the antonym community.
recently graduated from Earlham College. She likes to take photos and write and we guess we'll see where that takes her in life.
Ink on paper. This piece is for all those with desires that elude them.
is a high school senior who's only recently started writing poetry. She has no previous poetry publications.
contributors
is a reiki practitioner, performer, and social worker currently on un-ceded Abenaki land in Wantastegok. They bring lenses of quakerism, buddhism, dance, psychology, dutch-ness to their work, exploration, and creativity.
is a writer whose objective is to create pieces so unique, enjoyable, and interesting that the reader wants to experience them more than just once. He enjoys hiking, snowboarding, and weekend readathons with his wife and three young children.
Jules Park Afia Faiza Shopno Rachel Rogers Madeline Wallace Caroline Wolfe-Merritt
Anna Barrett Christopher Barrett Saskia Bailey-de Bruijn Sonia Charales Michael Ferry