One poem (Lost Dream) begins:
It’s a small roof where the prayer wheels hang.
She rolls them as she runs past, her fingers
on red, then turquoise, words flying, though
unsaid, not to be said. ..
In the danger of a tsunami you found
tireless strength, a ship standing
against muscle, slaughter, desert,
a tree facing the wind of lava –
roots fast against heat and force.
Only one child could survive, and you
were the girl. And as woman
you’ll pass on stories, customs,
wrapped in your shawl,
milk rich, and bread warm.
Published by Desert Willow Press.