Against barbarity, poetry can resist only by confirming its attachment to human fragility like a blade of grass growing on a wall while armies march by.
Without hope we are lost.
On this earth there is that which deserves life.
Standing here, staying here, permanent here, eternal here, and we have one goal, one, one: to be.
I wish I were a candle in the darkness.
Life defined only as the opposite of death is not life.