Try to praise the mutilated world.
Remember June’s long days,
and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,
while salty oblivion awaited others.
You’ve seen the refugees heading nowhere,
you’ve heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together
in a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought to the concert where music flared.
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn
and leaves eddied over the earth’s scars.
Praise the mutilated world
and the grey feather a thrush lost,
and the gentle light that strays and vanishes
and returns.

Stumbled upon this piece today when i was reading up on Mr Zagajewski. The piece was published on the back page of the NYTimes on the 20th of September 2001 or thereabouts, just 2 seconds after 9/11. Quite a beautiful poem i think, gentle like, clear, as sad as the real world is but sort of not sad at the same time. hopeful, joyful, Life-ful. It made people feel better, even as it allowed them to feel what they were feeling. well, i don’t know all that, but if that’s not what happened for Adam’s poem, well, then, that’s what I want to happen for Ngwatilo’s poems. there I said it, i have an ego.

It is what I want for my pieces, the ones that people will still want to read and talk about when my voice is croaky, when my eyes have a bunch of wrinkles around them; when I am not there. gentle-like

More about the author: http://gerryco23.wordpress.com/2009/05/31/poem-try-to-praise-the-mutilated-world/