At the grave of Anastasia Baluk – Cross Stone

And the sad snow falling

A toiling sky
And a long white line of hills

A distant birthplace
Short span and early dying

Pain from what heaven
Sorrowed your slope of life?

Through valley’s throat
Run double veins of water

Feverish river
Somnolent canal

– the vein of the metal rail
And the trundling roadway

– blood-streams of human needs
– of human growth.

Cell touches cell
In poignant spasmed loving

Cells split and flourish
Filling the warming womb

Limbs open out
With fingers – flexing – twitching

A body grows
And a tiny mind awakes.

Thirty-three years
– dates only tell of happenings

Those limbs endured
That spirit underwent;

What was the tale
And what the final chapter

That led to this skull in the earth
And the white snow falling?

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At the grave of Anastasia Baluk – Cross Stone