a path in the woods

I don't trust the truth of memories

because what leaves us

departs forever

There's only one current of this sacred river

but I still want to remain faithful

to my first astonishments

to recognize as wisdom the child's wonder

and to carry in myself until the end a path

in the woods of my childhood

dappled with patches of sunlight

to search for it everywhere

in museums in the shade of churches

this path on which I ran unaware

a six-year old

toward my primary mysterious aloneness

Anna Kamienska

Photo:  Peter Bowers

funny

What's it like to be human

asked the bird

I don't know really

It's to be prisoner in your own skin

but crave infinity

to be captive of a crumb of time

but reach for eternity

to be hopelessly uncertain

and a fool of hope

to be a crystal of frost

and a handful of heat

to breathe in air

to choke without words

to be on fire

and have a nest of ashes

to eat bread

but feast on hungers

to die without love

but love beyond death

That's funny said the bird

flying lightly up into the sky

Anna Kamienska

Astonishments

Photos:  Peter Bowers