By Carl Sandburg

I saw a famous man eating soup.
I say he was lifting a fat broth
Into his mouth with a spoon.
His name was in the newspapers that day
Spelled out in tall black headlines
And thousands of people were talking about him.

When I saw him,
He sat bending his head over a plate
Putting soup in his mouth with a spoon.

Tara by Patti Smith

She stood by the door / of her Virginia farm / pulling a sweater on / the branches / of the dogwood / she had tended / were bowed / blossoms loosened / tossed in sudden snow / the deer stood / in mute wonder / by her garden’s edge / she slipped the phone / in her pocket / her daughter / unharmed………

The Scent of Freedom by Anna Akhmatova

Wild honey smells like freedom, / Dust – like a ray of sun. / Like violets – a young maid’s mouth,

And gold – like nothing / The flowers of the mignonette smell like water, / And like an apple – love.

But we learned once and for all / That blood only smells like blood.

 By Clarissa Pinkola Estes

‘Sometimes, begging from door to door
is the only way
to find shelter for the Holy

Even when doors slam shut
One will open eventually
And the firelight inside
Will jump through the dark
So that light meets Light
Like steel sharpens Steel’

«Προσευχές ευγνωμοσύνης για τη χαρά που μας δίνουν οι επικίνδυνες γερόντισσες και οι σοφές κι ατίθασες θυγατέρες τους»  από το βιβλίο «Ο χορός των μεγάλων μητέρων» της Κλαρίσα Πινκόλα Έστες        (Μετάφραση: Άννα Παπασταύρου, εκδόσεις Κέλευθος, 2017)

«Γι αυτές… / Είθε να είναι πάντα τολμηρές / Και να μπορεί η ψυχή τους

Να προστατεύεται από άλλες ψυχές / Ενόσω αυτές προσφέρουν δύσκολα

Κερδισμένους θησαυρούς / Στον κόσμο μας, που τους έχει / Τόσο  ανάγκη»