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Aftermaths of Solidarity The earthen wares lay discarded. I have kept them in the same green plastic bag disintegrating with time. Miniature cántaros, cups and plates for my daughter now who knows of El Salvador who knows of Chalatenango through the young people she meets in Los Angeles in New Jersey in Virginia. Obediente hands sweep and haul wood wash clothes, dishes, and children, start fires and grind corn over stone to slap out tortillas for guerillas of the past. And with shame I cannot remember who walked far 136 EVERYDAY REVOLUTIONARIES to just that right spot, who dug deep into the fresh red mud to make those miniature wares meant to travel back with me. The ones my daughter refuses to hold. ...

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