Èlan Literary Magazine is celebrating its 30th Anniversary. In honor of our longevity we are posting work from our editorial staff alumnus, which includes biographies, Q&A’s, and excerpts of their pieces.
After graduating from Douglas Anderson in 2014, Emily Cramer moved to Tallahassee to attend Florida State University, where she is studying Nursing. She is a member of the Honors Student Association and has been on the Dean’s List for the past three semesters. She is currently serving as Secretary on the Executive Board of Lady Spirithunters, a spirit-based organization that works closely with the Florida State Athletic Department to spread love of FSU to the Tallahassee community and other FSU students.
Cherokee Land, 1830
(From Èlan 2014)
We found a maimed wolf this morning,
caught in the chicken wire.
Pa called for my brother
to fetch the rifle.
When he passed
he brushed my shoulder,
whispering of footsteps
words spoken in a tongue
we could not understand.
Sometimes at night,
when Pa slept off his fingers
of whiskey and twigs snapped
beyond our windows,
Ma told us stories of man and wolf
melding into one,
sun thrumming through veins.
She told us how we pushed
into their land, built on their earth.
She told us of a brotherhood
painted on hills, feathers sticking
to stone to form figures,
histories hung from
lips lit by fire.
My brother returned with the rifle.
Pa hawked up spit and sent
it into the wolf’s face.
He told us to watch,
learn what happens when savages
enter our land, take from our mouths.
Dear Harper
(Performed at the Èlan 30th Anniversary Alumni Reading)
Between your ink-blot pages
I found the cul-de-sac
at the end of our street,
where my brother and I
raced bicycles
round
and around
and around,
until we stumbled
home, dizzy with
grins and sun.
In Scout,
I discovered my mother,
mirror image
younger sister, scabbed knees,
undending curiosity and stubbornness,
a kindness sunken into
her very being.
Within your letter fragments
I unearthed
the history of the soil
I buried by toes in,
from sun rays dappling
leaves in the park down
the street,
to dark boughs bending
over, cries ringing
through the wood.
But in Atticus,
dear Mr. Finch,
I found the father
I had only dreamt of,
a father who would
take my hand and explain
justice in a way I understood,
a father who would
hang on my every word,
who treated me like
my mind was made of gold.
Somewhere, a mockingbird
begins to sing,
and two children
run through a wood,
their father following
with a smile.
What lesson did you learn at DA that sticks with you still? (Not just a lesson in the classroom but a larger lesson that gives perspective to your current life)
In junior and senior year, I really began to understand that fiction and poetry are not completely separate genres. In my last two years at DA, I began experimenting with using fictional storytelling techniques in my poetry, and using poetic language in my fiction. Some stories need to be written in a fictional format, and others need to be poems. At DA, with the help of [my instructors], I learned how to merge genres and write stories the way I needed and they needed to be told.
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