Tag Archives: Janice Kulyk Keefer

Skala The village where my mother, her mother, her mother’s mother, were born is no good to me. The house where my mother was born, the thatched house pierced by the branch of a walnut tree: torched in the war. Most of the village was levelled, then—the remains of my mother’s childhood—church, schoolhouse, cemetery—hold outContinue reading “2 poems for Ukraine. by Janice Kulyk Keefer”