Northern_Lights_2019

23 Arrival by Ferry at Dawn By Nathan Berg I wake up at dawn with my bed bobbing up and down, a steady rocking motion I have not felt in ten years— and back then it was darker and warmer. At first I think, perhaps, that I am dreaming, so I sleepwalk out of my cabin and onto the deck of the ferry. No dream; I can’t feel ocean spray in dreams, and I can’t suck in my breath with salty air in dreams. This is orange sun rippling uncertainly over dark green waves broken by the bodies of islands that died at birth. Their corpses glisten over the dark rocks that encircle them. Trees dot the bodies, their placement displaying the brilliance of coincidence. The docks approach in the distance, and behind them lies the small town of Sitka. I can already tell I’m going to hate this town; it is tiny and frivolous, like a wafer mint after a gluttonous dinner. And Sitka is closed off; there are only two ways off this rock, and I’m standing on one of them. I will stare out my window of my prison for the next five years and think: for all that, the view is alright. Cosmic Champions By Harrison Townsend The evening’s sky shimmers with the blurred patterns of our congregation. Out of the shifting sea of colors, star lights glimmer down upon us brazen. The drums are beaten, and the horns resound in a harmony that is our fanfare. Side by side, seven and six, four and five, all together make one singular. Cutthroat competitors now as close compatriots march together triumphantly. Here for this passing moment are the champions of this our brief constructed cosmos.