The Black Swan of Barashevo

August 29, 2017

In the courtyard

every morning

she became a black swan



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.


Share on Facebook
Share on Twitter
Please reload


June 30, 2019

June 29, 2019

June 27, 2019

June 26, 2019

Please reload