Ghosts to Carry, Stories to Keep

Where memory meets the page, one moment at a time.

2–3 minutes

In 1999, a book arrived in the mail from Maria Lucia—a gesture that sparked a quiet, 27-year dialogue across oceans, grief, and growth. Presented here in Italian, English, and Polish (the threads of our shared geography and heritage), this poem is a long-overdue response to seven paintings, a mother’s memory, and a friendship that never let me go.

Dedication to Maria Lucia

Your book arrived in 1999, a surprise I still remember — your handwriting flowing like a small stream across the first page. It has been a much‑loved companion ever since. And so have you. For more than two decades, across oceans and time, your friendship never wavered. You never gave up on me — even in the years when I barely knew where I was myself. I realise now that I never shared my favourite works in the book with you.

Forgive me — and thank you for finding me, again and again, wherever I happened to be.

🇮🇹
La Luce del Giardino

un dono d’inverno
da una donna
che porta il sole
anche in casa

il dolore di sua madre è
ancora vivo
nella sua voce

lei cammina tra mondi
con gentilezza nelle mani
e colore sulle spalle

aglio, risate,
il giardino aperto —
così tiene vivo il giorno

sette quadri
scelti per me
ancora caldi

ognuna una strada

che mi riporta a lei

tengo il libro vicino
per ricordare
come continua
a diventare
ciò che è già

Che la tua luce non smetta mai di crescere.

🇬🇧
The Garden Light

a book sent in winter
from a woman
who carries sunlight
even indoors

her mother’s grief
still blooming
in her voice

she moves between worlds
with kindness in her hands
and colour on her shoulders

garlic, laughter,
the open garden—
these are her ways
of keeping the day alive

seven paintings
chosen with care
each one
still warm
in her hands

I keep the book close
because it shows me
how she keeps becoming
who she already is

May your light never stop growing.


🇵🇱
Światło Ogrodu

dar zimy
od kobiety,
która niesie słońce
nawet do środka

żal jej matki
wciąż żywy
w jej głosie

idzie między światami
z dobrocią w dłoniach
i barwą na ramionach

czosnek, śmiech,
otwarty ogród —
tak podtrzymuje dzień

siedem obrazów
wybranych dla mnie,
jeszcze ciepłych

każdy z nich drogą
prowadzącą do niej

trzymam tę książkę blisko,
by pamiętać,
jak wciąż
staje się
tym, kim już jest

Niech Twoje światło rośnie dalej.

Is there a book or a handwritten note in your life that has anchored a friendship across decades?

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