Thursday, 13 August 2015

The Thursday Poem


Potted Flowers with Books IV
Eric Barjot


No, I'm Not Afraid

No, I'm not afraid: after a year
Of breathing these prison nights
I will survive into the sadness
To name which is escape.

The cockerel will weep freedom for me
And here - knee-deep in mire -
My gardens shed their water
And the northern air blows in draughts.

And how am I to carry to an alien planet
What are almost tears, as though towards home...
It isn't true, I am afraid, my darling!
But make it look as though you haven't noticed.

Irina Ratushinskaya
(4th March 1954 - )

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