Poetry

Steven Isaacson photo

By

Eliza Segiet

Life Occurred

For some

Life occurred

behind the thorny wire.

There, Numbers were born

they worked,

they died,

and death?

it visited them not only

during a bath.

To all

those

in striped, dirty suits

could have occurred –

Life.

Chimneys

Silent are the chimneys

of crematory ovens,

the Numbers become silent.

We must not remain silent,

we still have to shout.

Iron

for professor Bogumila Rouba

In the apparent space of life

the iron had a soul,

that did not die

not even slowly.

Only an emaciated hand

got cold on an empty table.

On both sides of the wall

telepathy associated

ashes with life.

Remember, my grandson,

you were born a human,

but once there was war,

and on it new homes were sown.

She Was Far Away

Somewhere

in the midst of the theatre of life

she sought shelter

to not return to the past.

She could not.

It followed her.

She could not forget

the pattering of German officers

and fear

is it today?

She hid in her

the past time –

like a stone

holds onto eternity.

Staff

In the mind lurks evil.

Adult children

playing war.

Not the pretend one,

not the one for a moment,

the real,

bloody –

plague of death!

From the staff of life

sounds fell out,

remained

the rhythm of our memory.

Hideout

In memory of my Grandfather

Under the hat

he did not hide fairy tales,

there his memories faded.

He did not want to remember,

but he could not forget!

In the attic he had a shelter –

a dangerous place –

a burrow of life and death.

Before he forgot –

he told his grandchildren.

Without a Plan

Life is one,

it is no imitation,

only a harbinger of death.

It will take them all:

ones today,

others tomorrow,

or another time.

It will touch and take away.

Without a plan –

we always go

towards it.

Moss

At dawn she visited a neighbour

– the one on the second floor,

and she only sighed:

not just yet, I don’t want to, I have to…

She did not finish.

On the sinuous, unstable

-like life-stairs

they went together

to where the earth

can give birth

– only to moss.

Poems translated by Artur Komoter

Eliza Segiet

Eliza Segiet. Master’s Degree graduate in Philosophy, completed postgraduate studies in Cultural Knowledge, Philosophy, Arts and Literature at Jagiellonian University, as well as Film and Television Production in Lodz. 

Publications: Poetry Collections:”Romans z sob?” (Sowello 2013), „My?lne mira?e” (Miniatura 2014 , II Edition: Sowello 2017),”Chmurno??” (Signo 2016), Including: Monodrama “Prze?wity” (Signo 2015), Farce “Tandem” (Signo 2017). 

Author of the Month (June 2017) in The Year of the Poet 14 in the USA, Author’s poem “Questions” was the Publication of the Month (August 2017) in Spillwords Press, International Publication of the Year (2017) in Spillwords Press, Laureate of the International Special Prize “Frang Bardhi – 2017”, Author of The Month of January/February (2018) in Spilword Press.

Author’s works can be found in anthologies and literary magazines in Poland and abroad (Albania, Australia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Philippines, India, Israel, Canada, Kosovo, Singapore, Scotland, Spain, Sweden, USA, United Kingdom, Zambia).