The oak trees stand so quietly,
Your voice would peter out
In their recesses.
The forest is deep in thought,
As the wind sighs
Through ruptured sunlight,
Its depths immersed in dream,
More than one of the trees
Has fallen or been felled
Leaving a stump,
The ghostly absence
Of an amputee’s limb.
The new saplings look down
Slender as young girls,
Feeling rain’s shy caress.
Listen and you will hear
Time remaking beauty
The canopy’s whisper
A silk dress.
Steve Komarnyckyj’s literary translations and poems have appeared in Index on Censorship, Modern Poetry in Translation and many other journals. He is the holder of two PEN awards and a highly regarded English language poet whose work has been described as articulating “what it means to be human” (Sean Street). He runs Kalyna Language Press with his partner Susie and three domestic cats.
Foxglove Journal 