Poems from Gabriel Robare
I stood in the center of the burning city—well
actually, dear reader, it isn’t burning
anymore. Just
charred, cracked, and crumbling,
as...
I must go now.
My roots exposed,
I leave, for new shores.
The stones of my home
are ground, from the
shoes my ancestors,
their ancestors,...
I wanted to live to earn and to own
To scratch my groove into the stone;
But from the little that I have understood
I believe a house by...