A child's grave

This epithet was sent to me by my friend Elizabeth in 2015, when she visited this place in Volos, Greece. She said it was on a gravestone of a child, dated 450 BC. I could not verify it or who translated it but Elizabeth herself is a writer but what gripped me with this is that nothing changes with the affairs of the heart, of love and loss, of life and death. In the order of the universe, Ecstasy of life must go hand in hand with the unbearable darkness of loss, surely this God suffers a divine bi-polar disorder, why should I be the one to complain ...

Little girl, I hope you will not

be lonely in this small place.

Your dolly is here by your side

and a comb. You can play

combing her hair.

Will you be warm enough?


It's pure wool


the purple shift they made for you. And look!

a second pair of shoes for when


you've worn the first ones thin,


and a tight hat 


when the sun's glare or the beat


of the rain insist.

You won't go hungry.


This basket's filled - nuts,


an apple, a pomegranate -


filled to show you what to do.


When it's empty 


you must put on your sandals and go:

gather more in.