I've often said that all poetry is political. This is because real poems deal with a human response to reality and politics is part of reality, history in the making. Even if a poet writes about sitting in a glass house drinking tea, it reflects politics.

The memory of my father is wrapped up in white paper, like sandwiches taken for a day of work. Just as a magician takes towers and rabbits out of his hat, he drew love from his small body.

Even if a poet writes about sitting in a glass house drinking tea, it reflects politics.

The soul inside me is the last foreign language I'm learning.

And as we stray further from love, we multiply the words. Had we remained together we could have become a silence.

Love is like a reservoir of kindness and pleasure, like silos and pools during a siege.

Knowledge of peace passes from country to country, like children's games, which are so much alike, everywhere.