Pro Tem is the Bilingual Newspaper of Glendon College. Founded in 1962, it is York University’s oldest student-run publication, and Ontario’s first bilingual newspaper. All content is produced and edited by students, for students.

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Pro Tem est le journal bilingue du Collège Glendon. Ayant été fondé en 1962, nous sommes la publication la plus ancienne de l’Université York ainsi que le premier journal bilingue en Ontario. Tout le contenu est produit et édité par les étudiants, pour les étudiants.

The Man Without Light

The Man Without Light

Back and forth, back and forth.

Back and forth, back and forth.

I walked calmly, ever so calmly.

But firmly I spoke, firmly

to the night, the darkness.

It could not conceivably do this.

There is more than just darkness,

this blinding pitch-blackness.

There must be.

These thoughts are type III madness.

The allegory of the cave,

is it true, am I insane?

Inside reality, is there an outside

that could be?

 

Back and forth, back and forth,

back and forth, I walked.

Ponder in silence calmly.

It cannot confuse me.

Good will win repeatedly,

none will be left in misery.

Encaged, locked, kept from light,

but is not darkness merely

an absence of light?

It will return. I am sure

the sun will rise, the world

soon encompassed, peering

into the blackness, speaking madness

I spoke to the darkness:

“is there no light to harness?”

Silently, I pondered,

calmly with sadness.

 

Back and forth, back and forth.

Back and forth, back and forth.

I walked and calmly, ever so calmly.

I heard a knock, a rap, a tap. Surrounded

by four walls but couldn’t conceive

them. The sound was foreign,

the macabre colours, dreary,

made my heart weary.

Anticipation of more silence. I walked

back and forth, back and forth.

Back and forth I walked.

Calmly ever so calmly but firmly,

I clutched my heart,

caged in with bars.

I heard a rap, a tap on the wall again,

and soon a scream, and then

with nails, sharp from years

of idleness. There I dug, deep

into my treasure chest. The sound

of rap and tap grew louder, the impression

of wetness, I wondered.

Back and forth, back and forth.

Back and forth I walked.

Calmly, ever so calmly,

I pulled out my own heart.

My Mom Has an Accent

My Mom Has an Accent

Violet Eyes

Violet Eyes