ALICJA MARIA KUBERSKA

ALICJA MARIA KUBERSKA

War In The Middle East

Memories like grains of sand,

during a storm in the desert,

swirled violently in the mind.

They hit hard, hurt badly.

Sight wanders around a desolate city.

I remember, there was a school there

and next to it a library and a flower shop.

The huge holes remained in the ground after them,

surrounded by the black stumps of the burnt trees.

Silence spills with a wide stream

through the empty streets and ashes.

It settles like dust on the  broken glass.

Birds flew away, the absent inhabitants fell silent.

Sometimes the wind wails among the ruins

and then as the echo

the whistle of falling bombs comes back.

In a surviving building without a wall,

like on a great theatrical scene of life,

an old  man is sitting alone and reading a book.

Hunger and fear have driven neighbors away.

He did not run away and became a guardian of hope.

Poor people suffer and die.

Politicians speak beautifully about peace,

about democracy and human rights.

Businessmen count the big profits

from the sale of weapons.

The vampires raise above the oil fields

to swab the last drop of black blood

from the tormented desert land.

Blue Planet

I have this image of our beautiful planet in my mind.

This blue gem shines in the darkness of the universe.

It is a wonderful cradle of plants, animals, people

and was described as a paradise in the ancient stories.

I woke up terrified when this happy dream ended.

The green lungs of the Amazon have shrunk

and the world suffers from shortness of breath.

The vast ocean waters are covered with a thick layer of plastic

and the genetically modified plants do not pour seeds onto the soil.

I ask a man:

“Do you know what it will be tomorrow?

Did you forget who you are and where you come from?

Why did you recant your mother-Earth?”

You keep talking about money, profits, prosperity.

You draw  the bars and worry about future incomes.

Instead of a dot at the end of your long lecture,

I saw one horrible word - death.

On The Border Of Dream

I fell asleep.

And walked from reality to fantasy.

The subconscious put together a mosaic

Made from feelings, memories, dreams.

I do not know who I really am.

I float lightly upwards

To penetrate a glass blue sky.

I touch the black space during

My journey to distant galaxies.

Sudden anxiety and vision of the future

Bring me back to the Earth.

I fall down with crazy speed.

Your touch stopped and saved me.

We met in Eden, ate the prohibited apples.

Then you gave me your hand

And we soared together among the stars.

You whispered

That you were waiting for me a long time.

You said – “I love you”

Is this Chagall’s painting,

Or just you and me?

I do not know how you entered.

My eyelids were closed.

Reality? Dream?

Departure

I helped you to pack your things into a suitcase,

Stuff scattered carelessly,

Entangled in your arrivals and departures.

Expected days have passed.

The day before yesterday turned into today,

With the date of the sentence printed on the ticket.

Gradually, the traces of your stay began to disappear,

The fragrance of your perfume got out.

The last sheet dropped from the calendar.

In our minds there is the autumn solstice

And consent to the inevitable parting.

Emptiness as winter haunts the cold.

ALICJA MARIA KUBERSKA