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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354059" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Elegy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The page opens to snow on a field: boot-holed month, black hour<br>the bottle in your coat half voda half winter light.<br>To what and to whom does one say yes?<br>If God were the uncertain, would you cling to him?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beneath a tattoo of stars the gate open, so silent so like a tomb.<br>This is the city you most loved, an empty stairwell<br>where the next rain lifts invisibly from the Seine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With solitude, your coat open, you walk<br>steadily as if the railings were there and your hands weren't passing <br> through them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;When things were ready, they poured on fuel and touched off the fire.<br>They waited for a high wind. It was very fine, that powdered bone.<br>It was put into sacks, and when there was enough we went to a bridge <br> on the Narew River.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And even less explicit phrases survived:<br>&quot;To make charcoal.<br>For laundry irons.&quot;<br>And so we revolt against silence with a bit of speaking.<br>The page is a charred field where the dead would have written<br>We went on. And it was like living through something again one <br> could not live through again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The soul behind you no longer inhabits your life: the unlit house<br>with its breathless windows and a chimney of ruined wings<br>where wind becomes an aria, your name, voices from a field,<br>And you, smoke, dissonance, a psalm, a stairwell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Anonymous submission.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Carolyn+Forch%C3%A9">Carolyn Forché</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354059" data-title="Elegy de Carolyn Forché" data-description="The page opens to snow on a field: boot-holed month, black hour
the bottle in your coat half voda half winter light.
To what and to whom does one say yes?
If God were the uncertain, would you cling to him?

Beneath a tattoo of stars the gate open,..."></div>
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