I Never Wanted Children, Maybe I'm Afraid

The Poem Is In My Hands, And Can Run Stories Through Her Hands.

Where Can I Free Myself Of The Homeland In My Body?

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.

If You Live, Live Free Or Die Like The Trees, Standing Up.

To Be Under Occupation, To Be Under Siege, Is Not A Good Inspiration For Poetry.