I dye my words
in night and moon —
dawn always two verses away
Today, The Wire dropped an article featuring Polish poet Tadeusz Rozewicz. This on a morning when I had Notes from Warsaw -3 (now numbered 4) floating somewhere between cursor and central nervous system. This is the way the universe works – you fixate on something for even a brief moment and that thing will begin to appear on walls, seep through the cracks and basically do a war dance in the spaces between the Malabar tiles on your roof. Try it.
Rozewicz was in the Polish resistance during WW II and his poetry is severe and visceral, ripping open your insides with its stark simplicity. But he was just writing about the times he lived in – the pain and despair in his poetry a mirror of the unbearable horrors of war. I wonder if reading my poetry years from now, a reader can discern the zeitgeist of our days. Maybe my poems should be a dirty yellow, the colour of weakness as earth and humanity crumble to dust without ink breaking over them. Maybe my poems should be a flaccid blue, the colour of cold refusal to rage against the dying of the light. What will that future reader get from the monochrome poems filling these infinite digital (d)reams?
Tomorrow will judge our today using yesterday as its prism. But that can neither dictate nor design our poems. But it does tell us who we are and what we might become. What we were and who we have become. It does tell us the truth.
I added Tadeusz Rozewicz’s books to my wish list. I peered inside the Kindle sample of his book – New Poems. The first poem, ‘The Trains’ had this:
“I am building
to link the past
with the future
The past is today,
But a little further on…”
The article from the Wire is here.
(from Bangalore, India: 29 Sep 2019)