Rogers Hall School - Splinters Yearbook (Lowell, MA)

Page 17 text:

Communion Open the doors of perception And see before you the Exquisite, sensual form of The breathing Morrison. Wild Child gushes from his Demanding mouth and untamed Movements of his leathered body Flash through foreign Minds, continents many Thousands of miles away. I-Iis mind drifts back and Pronounces again: Africa! Remember, my beautiful beast? We were once there. The warning cry, do not forget. Remember and wallow in Your surging, unconquerable youth. The pain and rushing of the time. The bloodstreaked walls of Man.'s unforgivable crime. He is not allowed to throw away the dew That flowed through his veins As he crawled on the earth Scrounging for berries with the animals, They became one. The glorious communion in The morning of man and beast. Pelting through the hide The string of poison Burns so deep Into the skin, pale and thin Before any protection can be taken. PAMELA BELL '69

Page 16 text:

Nativity The world was silent. Nothing Silence Breathings not heard The world was lit. Brightness A ball of yellow within the sky No sound . . . Stillness The world was aware. There was a sound. A OfY A whimper The world gave birth. A baby . . . In the loving arms of its mother. The world had sound. Something Breathings Whimpers of a new generation- The world . . . was alive. DEBBIE EVANS '72 16 Christmas Cheer JOY JOY JOY Rejoice in solemn airs for those pitied. Breathe the breath of happiness. Wage your war, oh Vietnam! Sing loud your praise to the earthys end. The world unites in peace, Its iniquities forgotten. 'Tis the season to be jolly. ANN HEMINGWAY '69

Page 18 text:

Graphically Speaking Why is it that it takes a picture to understand the theme? Is it a lack of intelli- gence, the lack of sensitivity or the lack of communication? Could it be the rush of society with its short cuts in everything to save time for . . . what? Might our interests be so specialized that other fields are incomprehensible? Are we all separate furrows of a field with saturated seeds incapable of maturation-flooded to death? Is there only one water route to our lives? Are the others washed away? Must it take a drought to dry us out and to make us live again? Is this drought the picture of hope? ELIZABETH HALL '69 A Thought We are all alone Though some are more aware of it than others. Each travels on a path that intersects many paths But no two ways run parallel for long To accept this truth is to accept life itself And to deny it is to be hurt at every parting. KATHY SULLIVAN '71 1 8