If I could I would kiss his wrists. If I had half the courage to face his pain. - Masiela Lusha

Charity befriends the children— From us, through us, in us. Behind this door, Charity waits. Alone. Tolerant. With a smile as deep as your core.

While some mothers sing lullabies to their children, my mother read me poetry. And to this day, I associate my strongest and most insistent feelings with words lyrically organized on a page.

Poetry is a lyrical insinuation. Often, its melodic subtlety kisses the subconscious mind.