Global Youth Service Day Art & Poetry Exhibit

Hi, I’m Luna.
Every morning, when the sun makes my room look cute and golden, I sit and make paper birds.

Pink wings, blue tails,
hearts on their chests, never fails.

I whisper to them,
“Fly far. Fly safe. Fly free.”
It just feels right to me.

At school, I saw a boy sitting alone.
He looked tired, like he had a long story.
His name was Mateo.

He didn’t really talk until I said,
“Hey, you can sit with me.”
Then he gave me a tiny smile.

At recess, he told me why he was new.
His family came from far away.
Not for fun.
Not for a vacation.
For safety.
For a better life.

He said, “We are immigrants.”
The word felt big, but he said it soft.
I told him, “That’s okay. You can still be my friend.”

Sometimes, men in green uniforms.
They asked many questions
and checked grown ups’ papers.

When Mateo saw them,
he grabbed my hand tight.
“I get scared,” he whispered.
“I don’t want my family taken away.”

I squeezed his hand back.
“I’m here,” I said.
Even if I didn’t understand everything,
I understood him.

There was a big leader.
He made rules for the whole country.

Some rules were okay.
Some felt… kinda scary.
Some made families worried,
like Mateo’s.

Even kids could feel the heavy air.

One windy night,
I found Mateo under a tree.
The sky was purple.
The wind was whispering.

He was crying.
The tiny, quiet kind that makes you feel it too.

“What if we get taken away?” he said
with a shaky voice.

I didn’t have grown-up words.
So I just sat beside him
because sometimes that says the most.

Then I remembered my paper birds.
My brave little colors.
My tiny flying messages.

I ran home SO fast.
Came back with a whole basket of birds.
Like… a LOT.

Mateo blinked.
“What are those for?”

“For hope,” I said.
“For us.
For everyone.”

We climbed the tallest hill in town.
The wind pushed us back,
but we pushed harder.

At the top, the sky felt close.
Like we could touch it.

We wrote messages inside the birds.

Mateo wrote:
“Every heart matters.”

I wrote:
“Let families stay.”

My hands were shaking,
but in a brave way.

“One… two… THREE!”
We opened our hands.

WHOOSH.
The birds lifted up,
bright like candy,
soft like dreams.

Pink, blue, yellow, green—
the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.

It looked like hope
finally grew wings.

The birds flew over houses
where people cooked dinner.

They flew over streets
with blinking lights.

They even flew
over the big white rule-building
where the grown-ups worked.

People looked up.
People read the messages.
People stopped to think.

Something in them softened.

The world didn’t change super fast.
But a tiny shift started.

People began saying things like:
“Kids should feel safe.”
“Families should stay together.”
“Be kind.”
“Be fair.”

And I thought:
maybe our birds did that.
Even just a little.

Now every morning,
Mateo comes to my house.
We sit by the window and fold new birds.

We write little messages like:
“Be brave.”
“Be sweet.”
“Everyone matters.”
“You’re not alone.”

Then we run outside
and let them fly.

“Fly far,” we whisper.
“Fly safe.
Fly free.”

And the birds
listen.

Sometimes I wonder
where every bird lands.

Maybe a kid finds one
and feels a little less scared.
Maybe a grown-up finds one
and remembers to be kind.

I like thinking
our tiny paper wings
make the world
softer.

And that kids like us
can make a difference,
even if we’re small.