Peace Corps Writers
A Writer Writes
Two Poems
See Lviv
    Fall, 1995Printer friendly version

    Today I was in love
    I bought blood red berries
    Pomegranates torn open
    Dried herbs tied in bundles
    Eggs in glass jars.

    All around me the city breathed
    Centuries of mourning
    Born against the weight of the sky

    The carved stone of doorways
    Armenian apses
    Layers of language on markers of the dead
    Sculptured turrets of thick walled arsenals
    And tiers of icons enshrined in light

    Today I was in love and the city breathed
    Bouquets of burnt-orange lamps sputtered
    Priests swung censers through Moldavian cathedrals
    Edifices arched
    Not buildings at all
    But monuments to fortitude
    Like the faces of people

               — Eugenia Hepworth Jenson (Ukraine 1995–97)


    no test to see
    if the great ideal
    fit the differences
    in our lives,
    trying to measure change
    by words or miles,
    by how deep a footprint remained
    or how many people
    remembered a name.

    private thoughts angled
    differently in the darkness:
    deep damp grass
    in a serious shell of nightfall.
    the scattered points of my life
    woven into
    a quick new pattern,
    watching the last lights
    go out below
    and leaving
         before we knew
         much more than midnight
         and two walks though the woods.

               — Steve Horowitz (Iran 1968–71)

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