DigitalCommons@C.O.D.

Colophon

Bressler, M.J.

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 43 
Number 2 Spring 2021 Article 14 
Spring 5-1-2021 
Life Cycle In Blue 
M.J. Bressler 
College of DuPage 
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Recommended Citation 
Bressler, M.J. (2021) "Life Cycle In Blue," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 43 : No. 2 , Article 14. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol43/iss2/14 
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LIFE CYCLE IN BLUE                                                              M.J. Bressler
Wedgwood sky
alive with winged carpenters
 racing Clotho’s spinning
smile on fragrant fields of hyacinths
as Iris domes hold out
the promise of dreams.
Delft blue oceans
move white froth waves toward shore
where tucked inside the pleats of sand
cornflowers wait
in silent bunches
for the kiss of Priapus.
Sapphire nights 
wrap tight around the last warm days
before the icy frost
sends hibernal warnings to blueberry bears
in the deepening shadows
of Diana’s woods.
                     Cobalt waters
deep as death 
accept the ferry Charon steers
while cold blue limbs stretch pleadingly
for one . . .    last . . .   breath
before the thread is torn.
                                                      
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English

Life Cycle In Blue

Kline, Melina

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 43 
Number 2 Spring 2021 Article 25 
Spring 5-1-2021 
Playing Reveille While Holding a Bayonet and Your Skull 
Melina Kline 
College of DuPage 
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Recommended Citation 
Kline, Melina (2021) "Playing Reveille While Holding a Bayonet and Your Skull," The Prairie Light Review: 
Vol. 43 : No. 2 , Article 25. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol43/iss2/25 
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has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
Playing Reveille While Holding a Bayonet and Your Skull 
                                         Melina Kline 
 
    Trumpet reveille
 rupturing crisp morning air.
 New specters unearthed.
              Subdued rebel yell,
              opaque fog oan misty morn
                                     lingering on edge.
                                       Grey coats, tattered torn.
                                                   Rusty bayonets sinewed
                                              jig-dancing puppets.
                                 Bent legs and elbows,
               devilishly gleeful smiles
   bobbling heads clash. Clash!
Fissured skulls, rot seeps,
   unbinding wretched, foul souls.
Massa’s short reign ends.
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Playing Reveille While Holding a Bayonet and Your Skull

McNichols, Matthew

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 43 
Number 2 Spring 2021 Article 28 
Spring 5-1-2021 
The Power of the "Deceased" 
Matthew McNichols 
College of DuPage 
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Recommended Citation 
McNichols, Matthew (2021) "The Power of the "Deceased"," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 43 : No. 2 , 
Article 28. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol43/iss2/28 
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more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
The Power of the “Deceased”            Matthew McNichols
The dead
Are not really gone
This is but an illusion
Many cannot see through
What is more real than us
Are the lively strong spirits
That all too often
Surround and guide us
Us, spirits encased in flesh
So unable to know their blessings
Yet sometimes we can feel
Flowers for Truman. Kimberly Smuksta
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Their omniscient presence and love
It manifests in a warm, peaceful feeling
Sometimes it materializes
In joy, happiness, sadness or serenity
All those who have passed on
Desire a simple acknowledgment
Of their surreal presence around us
Perhaps cheers them in silence or aloud
Before you take a sip of that drink
Visualize them embracing you
And subsequently feel your heart warming
Their power, their strength, is greater
Than you and I can never imagine
Death is painful for its survivors
Some know this more than others
There is no doubt in that
Yet we must, often begrudgingly, believe
That their spirit, their true self
Has risen, been set truly free
Encased no longer, given the divine ability
To aid, to guide, to heal
Requiring us to simply be open
To the blessings 
They wish to bestow upon us all
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The Prairie Light Review, Vol. 43, No. 2 [2021], Art. 28
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The Power of the  Deceased

Blake, Devon

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 43 
Number 2 Spring 2021 Article 41 
Spring 5-1-2021 
Hello Eloise 
Devon Blake 
College of DuPage 
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Recommended Citation 
Blake, Devon (2021) "Hello Eloise," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 43 : No. 2 , Article 41. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol43/iss2/41 
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has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
CW: Use of strong language, violent imagery, and allusions to sexual assault 
Hello Eloise                                                         Devon Blake
Characters:
Eloise: Female, early to mid ‘20s
Dr. Johnson, Psychotherapist: Male, late ‘50s to ‘60s
Act I, Scene I: Same Time Next Week?
The scene opens with DR JOHNSON seated, notebook, and pen in hand. 
ELOISE  sits opposite on a couch, aloof and withdrawn.  After scribbling 
in his notebook, DR JOHNSON begins.
DR JOHNSON 
Eloise? How are you feeling today?
ELOISE shudders with surprise as if she had been sleeping.
W
alter Gropius. Am
ber H
oughton 
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ELOISE
Um, eh...I don’t know. 
ELOISE  keeps her eyes and focus down, not connecting with DR      
JOHNSON
DR JOHNSON 
What has your week been like since we last met?
ELOISE 
 Just a week, same like always.  A week.
DR JOHNSON 
Still having trouble sleeping? 
DR JOHNSON writes in his notebook briskly
ELOISE 
Yeah, I guess...I mean I sleep, just not a lot anymore. 
ELOISE begins to pick at her clothing
DR JOHNSON 
Still having nightmares then? 
DR. JOHNSON  leans in and puts his notepad to the side
ELOISE  sits up and focuses directly on DR. JOHNSON. She speaks with 
a new boldness
ELOISE 
Yes, but I don’t know what they are and I don’t know that they’re memo-
ries or just stuff in my crazy head.
DR JOHNSON 
Does it matter to you if the dreams are just dreams or if they are in part 
reality?
ELOISE 
 Kinda. If they’re memories - then I need them to stop ‘cuz I 
don’t wanna know. I can’t know.
   DR JOHNSON 
Does it frighten you to know the totality of what occurred? Would it not 
be better than the unknown you have now?
   ELOISE
Knowing is way worse, at least now I can pretend it wasn’t so bad.  The 
bruises are almost gone, the bones are pretty much healed, I look pretty 
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The Prairie Light Review, Vol. 43, No. 2 [2021], Art. 41
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much normal again. If I know, I won’t ever forget and if I can’t forget it- 
then I’m stuck like this forever.
DR JOHNSON 
Forever is a long time, Eloise. Are you certain that knowing wouldn’t 
help you “forgive and forget” as they say?
ELOISE
Excuse me? Forgive... 
ELOISE  pauses to take a big breath and gather herself as she continues on 
And forget? That’s not fucking happening. There’s no forgiving 
anyone in this.
     DR JOHNSON 
 No? Why’s that?
ELOISE
Because some things just aren’t forgivable.  It’s not like they took my fa-
vorite pen without asking, or borrowed five bucks and didn’t pay me back. 
They ruined my life. Gutless and heartless and inhuman - that’s what they 
are and they ...aaaaaahhhhhhh! If I could ... Ugh!
ELOISE grabs her head with both hands and begins to shake as she cries.
DR JOHNSON
If you could what? Is there something you could do to ease your pain?
 ELOISE
Yeah but I can’t, ‘cuz if I did - that would mean I am just as evil as them.
DR JOHNSON
Ok, hypothetically then - what could you do that would give you some 
relief?  NO judgments.
ELOISE takes a deep breath and stands up, walks over to the window, and 
begins speaking- stoically while facing outside.  DR JOHNSON picks up 
his notepad and pen
ELOISE
I’d find them and take them, as they took me but I wouldn’t drug them. I 
want them fully aware of what’s happening.  I’d drive them out to the mid-
dle of the Mojave, strip ‘em naked, and crucify them to the ground. 
 
ELOISE turns to DR JOHNSON- her tone rises and rage fills her.
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Blake: Hello Eloise
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I’d slice them with a fine blade - everywhere but not anywhere that 
would cause them to bleed out too fast, I don’t want them dying too soon. 
Slash their Achilles, just in case they somehow freed themselves - they 
wouldn’t get far.  Then I’d fillet their dicks, from tip to sac. 
ELOISE walks directly in front of DR JOHNSON and smiles.
Then ...I’d pour salt and lemon juice in the open wounds and watch them 
writhe in agony- begging me to end their suffering - but death is a far 
too easy cop-out for those vile excuses for men. I want them to suffer - I 
want them to lie there in the desert praying something comes along to 
end their pain.  Praying like I do every fucking day I wake up that it was 
all a dream. 
ELOISE begins to cry.
I want them to feel the pain I feel inside - the searing - scorching nev-
er-ending pain of how they violated me. I’m alive but without a soul - 
living from here to nowhere! They took every ounce of good in me and 
murdered it, leaving me with a corpse! They deserve to die the most ex-
cruciating and endless death.  I’d watch for a bit - then drive off - hearing 
their screams for miles just as they heard mine. 
ELOISE sits back on the couch.
DR JOHNSON
And would that ease your pain? Give you some comfort?
DR JOHNSON writes in his notepad.
ELOISE
A little…
      DR JOHNSON
Well, then I think we’ve just made some progress. Same time next week?
ELOISE laughs as she rises and heads for the door.
ELOISE
Yeah, doc, same time next week.
ELOISE leaves.
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The Prairie Light Review, Vol. 43, No. 2 [2021], Art. 41
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Hello Eloise

Przybysz, Madelene

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 43 
Number 2 Spring 2021 Article 42 
Spring 5-1-2021 
Untitled 
Madelene Przybysz 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Przybysz, Madelene (2021) "Untitled," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 43 : No. 2 , Article 42. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol43/iss2/42 
This Artwork is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
 Untitled. Madelene Przybysz 
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Untitled

Kagin, Ethan

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 43 
Number 2 Spring 2021 Article 46 
Spring 5-1-2021 
The End Point 
Ethan Kagin 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Kagin, Ethan (2021) "The End Point," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 43 : No. 2 , Article 46. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol43/iss2/46 
This Selection is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
The End Point                                                                                      Ethan Kagin
Pain is the unified teardrop of life and death
It is a man without a purpose
Pain is the lack of something needed
A lost joy, or comfort
Pain is the evaporation of a sea of joy that we never knew,
will never know, and the longing for it to be filled again
Pain is the strongest emotion, come second to love
Yet love too, can be a catalyst for pain
Pain is the fickle inconsistency of time
Years pass like dust on the ground and leaves in the trees,
Taking our hopes and leaving our dreams, never to be fulfilled
Pain is the stump of that hopeful goal that still whispers “dream”,
in the dead of the wintery night, 
Only to be silenced by the cursing wind of the world, and the       
biting cold of reality
Pain is knowing you must walk forward, though bound in ball and chain
It is knowing that to stop the trek would mean only pain eternal
Perhaps the very measure of a life,
is how much weight they bear when they arrive
Oh the relief to lay the burden down,
To know it was carried for no purpose than to be dropped
Revel in the strength it took to hold that load
Pain is that cross, three nails we all bear
It is to look hate in the eye and not blink away
It is upon the pain we lay to rest,
It is on that pain we meet our judgment
It’s known that thrones break and kingdoms fall
It’s felt that feelings come and feelings go,
Yet ever-steady the path winds and flows:
Toward that point when pain will end.
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Kagin: The End Point
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The End Point

Mason, Solomon

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 43 
Number 2 Spring 2021 Article 49 
Spring 5-1-2021 
SELF 
Solomon Mason 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Mason, Solomon (2021) "SELF," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 43 : No. 2 , Article 49. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol43/iss2/49 
This Selection is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
SELF
Solomon Mason
He is the source of my depreciation and the embodiment of my 
anxiety. 
He remembers the worst times yet forgets the best moments. 
When I am built up, he tears me down. 
When I am in the light’s warm embrace, he casts a dark and cold 
shadow. 
His claws burrow deep into my psyche twisting and manipulating 
my cognitive. 
His charms coax me into being less than what I am. 
Though he seeks to destroy me, he only succeeds if I allow him the 
means to destroy me.
Though he is a shadow, when I muster the strength to expose his 
darkness, I am freed from his clenching grasp. 
He is strong only when he is given my strength. He is what I make 
him. 
He is an extension of my will. He is my creation and I am his creator. 
He is my worst enemy and I am his. He is me and I am him.
(top left) Ascension. Shawn Mason
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Mason: SELF
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SELF

Niedra, Haley

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 43 
Number 2 Spring 2021 Article 53 
Spring 5-1-2021 
Birdsong 
Haley Niedra 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Niedra, Haley (2021) "Birdsong," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 43 : No. 2 , Article 53. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol43/iss2/53 
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has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
Birdsong    Haley Niedra
I thought then to return back home;
They told me the birds would all be gone.
Better if the birds had flown away 
To live in some other, better way.
They were concerned; I wanted rest.
I assured them solitude was best.
They told me I should never come back
As if I had the courage to lack!
But courage is not what moved me here,
To the place my heart once held so dear -
It was for a promise, now long ago made
So long, in fact, the memories fade. 
But it would have been better if I had stayed
Far, far distances away!
For as soon as I stepped up to the door,
I found the birds returned once more.
To sing the mournful songs they weep
To drown out all else, even sleep.
I was strong before, but I’ve returned
And now am weak, as they have warned
But I had come, and now must stay
To hear whatever the birds would say. 
The birds don’t forget the words I said -
They won’t forget ‘til I am dead.
They cannot forgive, nor can I amend
For the fate of the man I had condemned.
So still I stood, and held my breath
Awaiting something, perhaps my death
But upon that stillness came the sound
Of flutters and flaps, which the silence, drowned. 
I think I knew within my heart 
I think I knew it from the start 
Yet still, there was a hope I held
As the birds neared, that they’d be quelled.
First, there came that Great Blue Jay, 
Not to sing, but to say:
“He’ll not return, no, not today!”
Lost to affliction, I turned away;
For I knew not how to reply
To such an outburst, such a cry!
Next came a pretty little Finch,
So sweet and small I did not flinch.
And as I began to hear his song
I came to know I had it wrong.
I thought he sang to give me cheer - 
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Niedra: Birdsong
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He wept my crimes into my ear.
Lastly, there came to me
The ugliest bird there was to see.
For that, I thought he would be kind,
But that is what I did not find.
Then all hope left, for I had learned
Any kindness within them would be spurned!
They hoped my living or dying heart and soul
Would fill with grief, would be filled full;
And so I am haunted by these birds
By all their accusing, heart-sore words;
I shall ever be with them, and they with I
Until the day that I am to die.
And upon the day, they will watch above
As I am put down in the grove 
(Where all the dead now peaceful lay) 
Only then to fly far away. 
Steamy Window. Lily Mayfield
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Birdsong

Jain, Megha

The Prairie Light Review 
Volume 43 
Number 2 Spring 2021 Article 57 
Spring 5-1-2021 
Nirakaar 
Megha Jain 
College of DuPage 
Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr 
Recommended Citation 
Jain, Megha (2021) "Nirakaar," The Prairie Light Review: Vol. 43 : No. 2 , Article 57. 
Available at: https://dc.cod.edu/plr/vol43/iss2/57 
This Artwork is brought to you for free and open access by the College Publications at DigitalCommons@COD. It 
has been accepted for inclusion in The Prairie Light Review by an authorized editor of DigitalCommons@COD. For 
more information, please contact orenick@cod.edu. 
Nirakaar. Megha Jain
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Colophon

Life Cycle In Blue

Playing Reveille While Holding a Bayonet and Your Skull

The Power of the Deceased

Hello Eloise

Untitled

The End Point

SELF

Birdsong

Nirakaar

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