By Ana Lisa De Jong — THE LAND We fight over the land. We claim it through greed, or the patterns of decades, and the entitlement of our father’s, whose …
By Ana Lisa de Jong — WITHOUT A LIGHT Poetry brings me home. When I have wandered directionless, without a light, when longings keep me circling, lost child in the …
By Ana Lisa de Jong — Watch how the sun rises. First the tip of the clouds turn pink, and then gold on a horizon. Something happens to our hearts, the …
