it lives in us all;
those of us who can’t
seem to “get it right,”
seeking love and then
demolishing it once
it’s found- deliberately
as if to fullfil
a prophecy.

it makes you blind,
triggers amnesia.
Watching her cry,
your Madonna,
unable to assist
or turn sad tears
into happy diamonds.

He’s gone,
off working or
something very important
and the strands
of sanity grow feeble.
Backs are turned,
they’re back to back.

But none will take
that step away.
And so it scars,
the invisible kind,
on the ones Madonna
sought to save.

it seeps from
generation to
repeating again
and again,
a cycle of pain.

Producing avoidants
and addicts
who sit and wonder why,
they can’t seem to
“get it right.”
Each generation laments
the loss, wondering
if love was meant to die?

God and his Madonna,
love higher than could
be touched or understood.
But she was left
in that story- Love
invisible. On faith
alone was child raised.
No- Saviour. To save
Madonna and us all.

But a child
born to save creator,
doesn’t make for
stable patterns. So
trauma builds and births
still more avoidants
and addicts who sentence
the other to a deeper Hell
as they try to hide
unseen scars,

looking for victims,
looking for an escape car.

Oh if Madonna never cried,
or yelled…or sought her
God somewhere far, then
we might believe that
Love could live in
faith alone.

But she did cry,
and yell and other things
so now we roam,
bearing burdens
not our own.

Seeking our prey,
too blind to heal…
Avoidant seeks Addict
and Addict falls fast
and bears another child,
…no, saviour…

Trauma reborn.


They say the devil

is simply a

fallen angel,


crashing through the

wind as he fell

from heaven.


And I can’t help but notice

that we’re all little

devils sometimes,


hurting each other

and we don’t quite

know why.


 Sierpień, 2015
Uniwersytet Warszawski, PL

An Impatient Wind

Time passes like an impatient wind,

And as it does, the memories wane.

Like the smoke of a shisha,

the scents hold strong but the vision

slowly disappears.


Torrential feelings, icy gusts,

cut through bone marrow and skin

leaving in its anxious haste a

hardened shell, frozen.


Time passes like an impatient wind,

And the figurines that used to

play in the mind’s eye so oft

trip and slip and slowly dissolve.

Features dissipate


like formations made in the sand,

altered by the eager gale.

Cling to images as you might

but the forms escape.


Time is a capricious lover,

Flirting with the innocent with

pledges to stay forever

and heady incantations of

fantasies fulfilled.


Then, in the dead of night or in

subtle moments in between

time slips from beneath the sheets and

wrinkled are they left.



The image that was once the form

that you could just about touch

in silent moments in the dark

chases nimble time.


And then one day when you awake

and realize that it’s gone

you’ll spend your whole life searching for

what you can’t recall.



Keen to capture the scents and sounds

To trap Image in your mind

You sprint, too hasty through your life

And never beat time.

Anniversary of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, 1943 (Warszawa, Polska)



Monument to the Ghetto Heroes (Pomnik Bohaterów Getta), 1948

Yesterday  was the anniversary of the start of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising of 1943 in Warsaw, Poland.

Not to be confused with the Warsaw Uprising of 1944, resulting in Hitler razing the city of Warsaw to the ground, the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising took place a year earlier in 1943 as the Jews of the Warsaw Ghetto revolted against their Nazi oppressors, resulting in the burning of the Ghetto (now Old Mokotów. Stary Mokotów), leaving almost no survivors in its wake.


A commemoration of the event was held at the Museum of the History of Polish Jews in Warsaw at Noon yesterday.

IMG_2045Everyone placed yellow daffodils on the Memorial which stands in front of the museum, in memory of Marek Edelman, a Commander of the Ghetto Uprising and one of the only survivors who went on to fight in the Warsaw Uprising, Powstanie Warszawskie, and take part in the Solidarity movement, Solidarność. His children, family and friends were also in attendance as we all walked through what used to be the Jewish Ghetto and commemorated those who were lost in this dreadful period of European History.


IMG_2018The commemorative walk through the Ghetto ended at Umschlagplatz, where the Jews were transported from the Ghetto to the Treblinka death camp by the Nazis.


The commemoration was interesting to be a part of and it was even more interesting to note that the anniversary landed on the Sabbath, preventing many of the observant Jewish community from attending. Furthermore, the date falls on the day before Easter, when most of Warsaw and Poland are getting their Easter baskets blessed at church, known as Święconka.

Altogether the event was an opportunity to reflect on the turbulent history of the city of Warsaw, a city I have grown to love deeply over the years. Jewish history is perhaps one of the most controversial topics in Poland and continues to be problematic in the development of the permanent exhibition in the Museum of the History of Polish Jews in Warsaw. The commemoration was an opportune moment to pause and think.

It is now time to get off of this computer and enjoy the beautiful Easter Sunday here in Warsaw.

Wszystkiego Najlepszego!

The Liberated Polyglot