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a poem. by Adam Zagajewski, translated by Clare Cavanagh
100 years of gathering…
I wanted to connect, even if it’s an illusion of solidarity.
I think about these women, alone, trying to make good decisions for their children, and at the same time fighting for an interior life.
The piney fragrance of gin definitely comes through.
When my daughters needed to report to their 4th grade teachers what their family traditions were, I sank for them.
Nothing we did before Covid will be the same, including seeing Maria at least twice a week standing solemn and solid behind a case of North Atlantic seafood. We didn’t know it, but Steve Connolly’s was much more to us than a fish market.
January offers the gift of stillness.
When I routinely clicked on Facebook Saturday morning, December 11, 2021, I saw a scary message -