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...