Poetry

 

Doing yoga in my living room

Doing yoga in my living room the teacher and I, oceans apart (Literally, she is in Cambodia, Showing miles of beach and castles of foam) I struggle...
Gold cherry

Come meet the women of my land

When I think of 'Island', the first thing I see is my island. My Sardinia. My land. And the women of my land. Our story and our geography. Our hands on the waist. Island to me means home.
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Cherry

Stop the walk

A small poem about how tiring resistance can be.
Cherry

War makes insomniacs and bad poetry

I woke up and 4 am last night, my stomach in a knot over the news of the last week. This poured out of me on the Notes app on my phone. I always turn to poetry when I'm anxious, I find it unfiltered and visceral. It's neither good nor reasoned, but that's okay, it's one of my best therapeutic tools.
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Punctured day

I wrote this poem a couple of weeks ago during one of my blah days. Today I thought I'd share it: it is another blah day. Also, another day when the fact that my hair is clean and going swish is one of my few joys.
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Changing spine

Family issues sometimes can inspire the weirdest images.
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Gold cherry
Poem of the week

Ciao nonna

My grandma passed away last Friday. She was 99 and died peacefully in her bed after withering away slowly for the past two or three years. She had survived herself, and there was relief that she was free at last. However, we all feel older, lonelier, more vulnerable now. This, however tiny, is for her. And for my dad.
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