I posted this poem days ago. And then a few nights later I read it out loud to a group of fellow “creatives” (they did
What is this uproar Of “All Lives Matter”? As if all of them ever did? As if those first white-faced arrivals Cared about the natives
Not a poem, really. More like a stream of consciousness… He was alive on Mother’s Day. Did he already know? Was a plan in motion?
This beautiful poem, entitled “Pandemic,” somehow landed in my inbox. As I read it, I found myself taking a deep, cleansing breath. Actually, a few.
Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You
The 3 of us, my first sisterhood: I was 7 and 9 when Camelia and then Claudia (we called her “Nikki”) joined the family. I