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CC 07-21-20 #1 Cupertino Poet Laureate_Staff PresentationProgram and Response to COVID-19 Cupertino Poet Laureate CC 07-21-20 Item No. 1 Cupertino Poet Laureate Program Honorary, volunteer position Sponsored by the City and the Library Commission Practicing poet with professional recognition Provides the residents of Cupertino with programs, workshops, and events which introduce and reinforce poetry as an enriching cultural art-form open and accessible to all. Programs Offered During Shelter-in-Place Virtual Poetry Pen Pals Workshops #CupertinoCares Poetry Slam Poetry Windows Project Cupertino Rotary Student Poetry Contest •Opportunity for self-expression during the pandemic •124 poems submitted by High School and Middle School Students •Judged by current and previous Cupertino Poet Laureates The Sky is on Fire Jing Jing Yang, Cupertino Poet Laureate sky is on fire air is a liar we thought it was fresh oxygen it blows wicked virus the invisible true assassin the ferocious night falls lives are taken more and more fears & tears build a wailing wall cities on lockdown masks must be worn social distanced hearts feel torn ... sky is sobbing its teardrops pouring down to the ocean thunder crashing on top of the mountain Man vs. Pandemic four months later shelter-in-place still in order covid-19 vaccine is under development poets Facebook-Zoom-Live to break silence & isolation children’s virtual classes have begun when would the battle end any silver lining? one day soon our borders will be reopened to the world again rainbows will reach out to all continents let’s meet for poetry or coffee in that victorious morning Story Made from Shadows Grace Ker, Miller Middle School Story Made from Shadows I was born in a world of smoke. They covered my eyes with gauze, swabbed my flesh clean. I was a child then, and the shadows of men and women in white coats walking across my room became my best friends. The red lines around my mouth and nose made my skin raw, and my ears buzzed with the heaving of my own chest like musty whispers. Every two hours, two nurses nudged me, positioning pillows behind my back and telling me to rest on the other side of my body. I dreamed of a world with sunrises coloring the sky pink and orange. I dreamed of standing by myself, feet buried in the sand, crabs tickling the soles of my feet while the waves came and hugged my splintered shins. As years swung by, my lungs grew stronger. I went to school in a wheelchair, but I loved learning about how my white blood cells battled the barbaric bacteria. I volunteered at my local hospital, serving hot water and cuddling newborn babies. 2020 was the year where schools around the nation closed and so did local shops. There were people dying all around the world. We covered ourselves in masks and gloves, scrubbed our hands with soap until the skin cracked. My lungs had taught me to help heal my community. I sewed masks for the nurses and doctors at my local hospitals, cooked pots of stew and rice to serve to the people without homes. Together with my mother, father, sister, and friends, I decorated thank-you cards and cut flowers from my backyard. I gave the coins I’d collected in my piggy bank to the local food bank, Asking my friends and teachers if they could do the same. We joined hands, clenching on to the warmth and love. We were born into a year of smoke, and we smiled, knowing that the flame ahead could not burn us. Thank you!