6 grudnia 2019
Voiceless Assaults
You are waiting
amid fears. The fretting
does not end.
At where,
the road ends? To find a blue star
where do we go?
The house was
sleeping in fog. Inside the
dome, hooves, quiver.
I have to become
mute. Time was black,
my song blue.
A pure crime.
The vultures come in
cloaks to take away the lamb.
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Marek Jastrząb