Prose and poetry by Leen Raats
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 an evening! Yesterday, I had the privilege of reading during a magical event, organized by local nature organization Natuurpunt at Kiewit (Hasselt, Belgium). Surrounded by ancient creatures unfurling their almost bare crowns above me. The rain provided a fitting background concert.
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“What a better way to understand one another in this world but by the glimmering sparkle that unites us in this lighthouse?”
These are beautiful words from the editors of the Poetry Lighthouse. My poem Asphalt found a wonderful home at this creative writing community.
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What lies beyond these mountains
rests within me, deep and low
an unspoiled valley
where mythical creatures
with unearthly motives
lead late travelers to their destiny.
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My poem ‘What the universe wanted’ is part of issue 41 of The Pointed Circle, a magazine run by students and faculty members at Portland Community College.
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Leen writes 