Author: Julia

  THE WINDOW When my faith was hanging by the weak thread of justice and in the whole city the hearts of my lamps were being torn to

  EXILE In the foreign city with an incomprehensible language you are walking along unfamiliar streets; not even the water of the river which flows under the stone

    THAT SLIVER OF NOTHINGNESS O you, who are so distant, yet so intimate in your silent possession of me— Am I loving the unknown, rather than

EARTH Our virgin mother black of face We hurt her to bury our dead she bore and formed from clay Six feet under earth is enough to return

I LOVE TO TOUCH LEAVES   More than books Magazines And newspapers, More than moving lips Repeating the books The magazines The disasters, I love to touch leaves

BRIDGES Let us build bridges, he says, of stone and steel indestructible by the weight of the armored who will save us. Let’s braid flexible things, she says,

  CHRISTMAS 2019 More than one child is born this night. wherever the die falls on fertile or infertile soil, fate decides. How colorful the blinding of the

  THE FAREWELL   There it already stands, around the corner, old age, like a leafless tree. Let’s hold for a moment, here, under the sky, that gives

  MIDWINTER SONG So hard can be the shadows of the night that the heartbeat of my beloved becomes heavy and dark So hard they can be the

LONGING I want you like a fallen angel who reached his Heaven and drank water from the crystal spring. I want you like a flower that discovered the