I looked into the distance without time
Where are the dense groves of our days
lives and loves
Where on the mountain I was asked
“Tell me what you see”
Hearing the sigh of every flower
Earning the trust of an unseen world
I gave myself
To contemplate her eyes in return.
In them I learned the world
Which I was born with
In days of childhood happiness
In the meadows, by the lake, by the sea,
On the benches in the courtyards.
The love of those eyes brought softness
They met the sun
At 13 I knew what death should look like, and not from doctors. Cancer took over my grandmother’s life in our small apartment, in Ukraine. A cramped apartment, but surrounded by mine and my mother’s love. When I was 23, my mother died in my arms from cancer. Doctors weren’t there to tell me Mom was dying — I knew by remembering how my grandmother looked.
The shadow of grandmother’s death and its pain have been hovering over me and Mom all of those years after the paramedics pronounced her dead on a pull-out couch in our humble kitchen. We…