Life from Canada to Latin America, one word at a time.
The last time I lived in Ottawa, the Arab Spring was just beginning. I would come home to my mansion to watch the Al Jazeera live feed for hours. I had studied nonviolence for social change; here was nonviolence for social change taking place right in front of my eyes. I moved to Colombia and
International Worker’s Day, or May Day, is a national holiday in Colombia. Across the country, workers and unions march to celebrate workers’ rights, and the long struggle of workers all over the world for dignified working conditions, especially in the late 19th century: “Eight hours to work, eight hours to sleep, eight hours for what
The Stolen Camera by Naomi Shihab Nye Since the camera was stolen everything is a photograph— pink bloom against white stucco, serious face of the potato chip man leaning over his cart. In the square, gypsies with brilliant skirts twirl among palm trees. I reach for the camera, to hand it to you, but it
A strong woman is a woman who is straining. A strong woman is a woman standing on tiptoe and lifting a barbell while trying to sing Boris Godunov. A strong woman is a woman at work cleaning out the cesspool of the ages, and while she shovels, she talks about how she doesn’t mind crying,
Because it is Monday morning. Because it is the end of national poetry month, which should really be international poetry month. Because in a world of earthquakes and other atrocities, moments of coffee and street gazing are sacred. I allow myself by Dorothea Grossman I allow myself the luxury of breakfast (I am no nun,
As you prepare your breakfast, think of others (do not forget the pigeon’s food). As you wage your wars, think of others (do not forget those who seek peace). As you pay your water bill, think of others (those who are nursed by clouds). As you return home, to your home, think of others (do
I was in Canada in June for a whirlwind of wedding and family love. I was there for the longest day, the Summer Solstice. People in my Bogota office still remark with wonder whenever I mention my trip home that: “When Anna was there, day lasted all night long.” As fall begins in the north
Happy Birthday Pablo Neruda! Thank you for your work of making the ordinary extraordinary. Ode to Life The whole night, armed with an axe, has overwhelmed me with grief, but the dream passed by washing, like dark water, bloodied stones. Today I am alive again, Again, I wake you, life, on my shoulders, Oh life,
Español Last night a bomb exploded on the veranda But sounds of birds sweeten the earth this morning. I hear the fragrant trees, look in the garden, Find two silent clusters of ripe guavas. -Lam Thi My Da (translated from the Vietnamese by Martha Collins and Tay Dinh) In days of protests and surveillance, of
These shriveled seeds we plant, corn kernel, dried bean, poke into loosened soil, cover over with measured fingertips These T-shirts we fold into perfect white squares These tortillas we slice and fry to crisp strips This rich egg scrambled in a gray clay bowl This bed whose covers I straighten smoothing edges till blue quilt
Anna L. Vogt 