Photograph: ©John Stadnicki, MMXVII
A train passed, at a slow speed,
through iced waters.
It could have taken minutes
or maybe days.
The crushing sound of my doubt,
the unnecessary beauty,
push the march backwards.
Blessed be the stones. So many
are thrown at us from above.
A thousand years of anger in one place.
The graveyard is now in bloom.
Bread-flowers are shooting upwards.
My defeated words, stronger than my weapon.
(Poem published in ‘Stride’ magazine, available here)
Thank you, Rupert Loydell!
Photograph: ©John Stadnicki, ‘Corpus I’ – MMXVII
(for Katie McCue)
The soldier, asleep by his polished sword,
was somehow surprised.
Such a big storm!
The colours, all of them, disappeared.
The city collapsed in a big crevasse.
When she cried,
The roads, the windows had to be shut
when she needed silence.
The words had to be wrapped in silvery knots
they became people.
The stories stopped being written,
the earth stopped,
the war stopped.
And simply because she had
a fear of butterflies.
The butterflies were not scared of her.
Photograph: ©John Stadnicki, ‘Corpus II’ – MMXVII