One day, I will be a poet. Water will depend on my visions.
The poem is in my hands, and can run stories through her hands.
On this earth there is that which deserves life.
Life defined only as the opposite of death is not life.
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.
I wish I were a candle in the darkness.