The week between tinsel
and fireworks, where time is...

I needed to write this poem
with a pen...

The scars, carved
tributes to...

The whispering
started gently...

If I had five minutes
to talk to you...

It is hard to trust
when fear leaves...

You came here without a path
your role is to forge one...

Wanderlust
Sometimes the anticipation of travel...

I followed the others
to the Women’s Baths...

In the winter of the
frozen prayers...

I remember the words,
the ones we sacrificed...