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Bronze Award icon
wild girl ode
Giya Agarwal
Bellevue, WA
2025, Senior, Poetry & Spoken Word

remember the hill. remember
how we used to climb it together,
mud on our knees, pollen sticking
to our shins, laughing too loud.
we were wild girls then, half-feral,
sticky with sweat and sap. we
talked about nothing at all and
everything all at once: algebra
and crushes and growing up. this
was our place, this rooftop covered
in grass, pretending to be all-organic,
with its theatre tucked beneath it
like a secret. this was where we
became real, where we laid flat on
our backs, bodies pressed to earth:
an offering. a phone between us,
taking pictures of the sky: oh, how
weightless we once were. dandelions
never asked to bloom, they just did
and so did we. out-of-season, defiant.
we practiced witchcraft, blowing their
seeds to wind so they would carry us
somewhere safe. remember how the
hill held us and kept growing with us.
it knew how to embrace us and the
wind would brush past, like a hand
through our hair, a mother or memory.
this is where the remnants of girlhood
lie still, not in photo albums but in
soil. remember our hill. how it raised us.
how it taught us that nature is just a patch
of evergreen on top of something human.

Reflection

My poem, "wild girl ode", came from a place where I have so many memories-- the grassy roof atop a local youth theatre. I've spent hours there across my childhood, chatting with friends or bathing in the sun, and the memories I made are what is infused in this piece. What speaks to me most is that this hill, this grass roof, taught me that nature doesn't have to be grand or wide-stretching or ancient to be held sacred; it can be something small and human-grown as long as it is cared for. I wanted to eulogize my beloved hill that taught me so much. Ultimately, my message to readers is this: your nature doesn't have to be an ethereal waterfall or a snowy mountain. Sometimes, that one place is your backyard, a nearby park, or maybe, just maybe, a grass-covered rooftop, where you laughed with your friends and felt at peace. That still matters; it still counts.

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wild girl ode

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