Prose and poetry by Leen Raats
It’s the music that saved me
on long days underneath the roof window
of a drafty row house on a street
where no one wanted to know me.
At night I dissolved into crowds
like sugar in coffee. Invisible
but everywhere my shadow slipped
along facades, over thresholds where riffs
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When I do not understand
a language, I listen to voices.
read faces. feel sounds
dancing on thin air.
I live in fragments. call me visitor
vagabond. wanderer. child
at the wrong house. Where I am
is where I’m supposed to be.
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Today, one of my poems was published in the online edition of Amsterdam Quarterly. It has also been selected for the annual print anthology, set for publication in December 2026. This marks the magazine’s 45th edition. The theme “climate overshoot” was a perfect fit for a little poem I’d had sitting on the shelf for years: “When the Levee Breaks.”
Yes, like the Led Zeppelin song. Although, as every blues lover knows, that’s not the original version. This blues classic was written in 1927 by Memphis Minnie, a singer and guitarist who composed over 200 songs, many of which are part of the collective blues memory.
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Grief is a mountain. They say I have to
get over it. So I climb.
Breathing is nearly impossible. Dust fills my lungs
the air is hot and lifeless.
I dig with broken fingernails
in the darkness surrounding me.
Thick like gravel.
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Flakes seem to soften everything
but I don't feel it. Hide my pain
behind scarves. Cold seeps
through my skin like memories.
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I used that strange period between the holidays to give my poetry collection "Driftwood – Drijfhout" the finishing touch. In this bilingual collection, every poem is in both English and Dutch. I did all the translations myself, but I did pay a professional, native-speaking translator to proofread the English versions.
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The earth is now too hard to bury corpses. Water cracks
in the pond, birds peck thirstily at the ice. A wafer-thin
layer of city dirt falls like snow from a red sky.
The deceptive beauty of the apocalypse.
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I remember how we used to count paving stones
between home and school. Straps of backpacks
leaving marks on bare legs.
Your arm through mine, an anchor.
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The unfulfilled expectations of the people
who still tolerate my presence or are willing
to pretend for the sake of mutual friends or family.
Losing battles. Bottomless glasses and nights.
Rampant prejudices that feed on nitrogen
and generalization. The inflation of compassion.
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What do tangerines and windmills have in common? I wrote about them in two poems that got published in DarkWinter Literary Magazine, a Canadian magazine. My virtual world tour is really coming together. 😉
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In the American anthology Darkness Most Fowl, writers from around the world will scare you to death with dark stories about birds. I am one of those writers. The book was officially published on October 31, not coincidentally Halloween. I've had the book on my nightstand for a while now, and I can tell you that it contains some truly gruesome gems!
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Leen writes 