1971 School Magazine

There is a time when love comes. It comes to pull you with no effort out of your self into a light so bright and warm that it makes you look up- Its words are not words ofreason or gssurance They are tentative and hesitant-unsure of their own importance. Its phrases are not of empty comfort or allusion to a "grealer being"- Its tone is one of love at wishing you to be able to feel this love in your unhappiness. This time must come to all. There is a person in the world for all of us. She will be there to smile in her humility-extending no more than love For fear of being presuming. She is a person among qll the people who will drain you of your self sufficiency. She will come when your resistance is at its lowest*not to break down But to build from your empty shell and from God a happiness. She comes to all. There is a response. This is not inspired,it is not compulsory To some it comes-for them the shell has been easily broken And built in love For the others-those whose doubt still retains a strong buffer around the already empty shell-remains eterrwl despair But*if they try to breqk through-tacks of the radiant light seep through-

Cfrrc*go *4tnp*nt Noise. Noise. Endless noise. Air hostesses' bright, mechanical smiles-yellow lights glaring down-long corridors with high ceilings and glass walls-bui always, dominating everything-noise. Interminable, deafening, pulsating noise, pushing in to the innermost recesses of your mind. A loud noise. a full noise-waves upon waves of sound, surging forward and then leaping back and eddying, swiriing, sweeping, round and round, as of lost-and. then finding itself again and roaring forward. It was a noise compounded of many things-of the rush of jets as they soared down from thJ heavens and across the tarmac aird then spilled out their weary, travel-stained passengers, then waited im- patiently for a new lot ;f equally impatient travellers-eager to swoop up once again, penelrating the deep stillness of the night. It was noise compounded of the business-like click of heels on the polished tiles, of typewriters clattering some- where in the distance, of the clear, impersonal voice over the loudspeaker, of the jingle of coins on the counter of the souvenir shop, and of the steady lloring from the portly gentleman sitting opposite. Until-after hour upon endless hour of waiting, lt is your flight number being announced, and you stumble wearily to your aeroplane and sink back into the softness of your leather seats, into the luxury of dimmed lights, and the peace of-stillness. Sandra Hogan, IIIC

straining to reach them. This ioy must come to all.

Inta Gertners, VIA

.-/y'l.nJrng Sorl'

I saw the small boy raise tear-filled eyes and try to understand. To understand what Mummy meant lilhen she took him by the hand and said, "He's bhck, my son, don't play with him," "l,lhy can't you understand?" "You're white, my son, remember that . . ." So now his is grown to msn But still he thinks and wonders "why" Did Mummy understand? That black is white, and white is black And both are fellowman.

Sue Shepherd,IVA

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