Sis' Madlisa

“Mystique” Elibeidy Dani by Miles Aldridge

"it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in the broken world."

The Quiet Machine Ada Limón

"Harvesting - Sewing - Reading - Resisting" by Palestinian Artist Nabil Ananim (1990)

while a side is there

La Llorona rises over my town -- a solitary curve, sharpened by someone else’s fury. I read a small gray Zen book Everyone loses everything. Lovers, families, friends, possessions, egos -- we keep nothing of this world, not even our bodies. It’s as if you’d lost your favorite teacup, you see. No amount of searching, weeping or wailing will bring it back. If you want a drink, use a different container. Write a long series of passionate poems about your cup. Hell, write a whole book. Obsession is the mother of creation. But as you compose, sip from the new mug. It will become your mug of choice. You’ll lose that one, too. And so on. In theory, anyway, we outlast dispossession: Ceramic mugs, hearts, continents. Outside, La Llorona’s knife slices the indigo heart of silence. Nonsense, she howls. There’s always something left to lose.