The Black Swan of Barashevo

August 29, 2017

In the courtyard

every morning

she became a black swan

unchained

 

the woods

her vivid breathing space

as earth served

the warm dew

 

grey became

the only colour of hope,

when she flew

over a forest untraced

 

far from the guardians

in barbwire coats,

free from the lie of her

dissident pen.

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