I know you are reading this poem as you pace beside the stove warming milk, a crying child on your shoulder, a book in your hand because life is short and you too are thirsty. I know you are reading this poem which is not in your language guessing at some words while others keep you reading and I want to know which words they are. I know you are reading this poem listening for something, torn                 between bitterness and hope turning back once again to the task you cannot refuse. I know you are reading this poem because there is nothing else   left to read there where you have landed,…