In the mirror there I can’t see myself. I see my grandmother’ eyes looking back at me and remember how I made them cry. She is the strongest person I know and in one mad moment, thinking of myself I made her weep. I was distracted worrying about overweight baggage and departure times I forgot…
Continue reading ➞ My Grandmother’s eyes
My grandparent's gardens are gone like so many poetic laments about lost paradises nothing of their cultivated land where father, son, mother and daughter lived the flowering trees are a memory recalled by a dying generation no more sustenance or song only the shadows of a once fertile island Ancient olive groves gradually enveloped by…
Continue reading ➞ Poetry inspired by Sicily: A place of elephants, lions and bears
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