BOZENA HELENA
MAZUR-NOWAK
ALL DAYS SEEM THE SAME
The outside world is waiting to be healed
but blinds cover the windows
and pain clings like a demon with sharp claws
and the way out is like the Way of the Cross.
On the threshold the pain stumbles over despair
and in the bedroom guarding memories, curled
tightly,
a ginger cat gloomily meows.
There is a void that cannot be filled
when children leave the nest before they are ready
to fly.
The nights are darker, all days seem the same.
Unshed tears hover, waiting to fall.
We stare at the blue bike standing orphaned in the
hallway
and ask ourselves – Why?
© Bozena Helena Mazur-Nowak
TSUNAMI
black coffee bitter as wormwood
maybe sugar lost its sweetness
twisted tale without rhyme or rhythm
between the cup and the touch of lips
a ponderous haste, sat opposite me
it can not keep up with the flow of thoughts
world paused, as though in silent hatred
the Tsunami of evil and hypocrisy flooded our world
© Bozena Helena Mazur-Nowak
DILEMMAS OF THE HEART
Each night I return to those green fields
To the fragrant linden trees, willows with the
outstretched arms
I count, up there in the sky, storks arriving with
the Spring
And in my mind, I circle around my grandmother's
cottage
I listen to the brook babbling in the morning
And to grandfather's violin playing in the evening
I bring my entreaties to the roadside chapel,
To allow the pilgrim to return with a bowed head
Each night, I return from a distant land,
To where you can hear the wonders of Chopin's
playing
To the fragrant fields of Mickiewicz's stanzas
'Dabrowski’s Mazurka* will remain in the heart
©
BOZENA HELENA MAZUR-NOWAK
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