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Again

Perhaps like you, I’ve been preoccupied this week with the terrible events in Israel-Gaza. Please accept this new poem as a gesture of shared grief and, yes, despite everything, shared hope. Always hope. Like a…

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Legs

In 1982, for a college trimester, I studied and did “service work” in the newly independent nation of Belize. Looking back, I don’t think the Belizeans much desired or needed my “service,” but the experience…

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The Secret of Birds

THE SECRET OF BIRDS Phyllis Cole-Dai  Outside the window, an hour before dawn, when night weighs heaviest on the neck of the world, one bird with pluck begins to sing I’m here   I’m here   I’m…

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Names Will Carry

NAMES WILL CARRY Phyllis Cole-Dai                         for Wanda and Tom I carry your names into the mountains you loved, though mountains have no need of names— they know each pilgrim that passes through by scent…

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Ode to a Flat Tire

On this Mother’s Day in the US, you may be celebrating a special someone in your life who has “mothered” you or whom you yourself have had the privilege of “mothering.” My young chap, Nathan,…

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Mother Tree

Yeah, yeah, I know. Mother’s Day in the US isn’t until next week. But when I began this poem, I didn’t know it was going to be about mothers. Or about tree rings. That’s the beauty of…

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Saints

On the same Friday that the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, my family headed to a weekend jazz festival in St. Paul, Minnesota, around four hours from home. We needed distraction. We needed music….

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