Poplar and Wind
The smell of led was in the air
In the quiet forest bullet that silence would dispel
That bullet young partisans’ heart would tear
And the boy like stone would fell
All was left was a shallow grave
And small cross given to the one who was brave
Above the grave tall poplar would sway like an ocean wave
The salute was not given because guerrillas their bullets had to save
The destiny has many turns
There are many earthly concerns
But in subtle leaves of poplar tree wind makes sound like heart that for lover yearns
Only it can respond to other sides’ concerns as well as soul’s current sojourns
Wind is beyond time but blood is like wine
No matter if blood is spilled by men or force of divine
Is the wind reflection of the force angelically sublime?
Or maybe soul has its own poplar its own wind and its own one having no reference to ours’ time
Copyright © Patrycjusz Kopec | Year Posted 2013
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