Belarusian I

by Valzhyna Mort
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It isn't that we, in America, have not seen horror. It is that the maturity to write it has been muffled, infantilized, truncated. When such a young woman writes the near-ineffable, there is something in the culture that nourished the skill of her expression, as well as her own individuated soul. What woman--or the feminine in a sentient man--anywhere of any age, does not feel herself in these horrific lines.

Knee jerk reaction: "That poem does not belong with that face." The fact that it does should change the way people think—and live! Of course, it won't; but it should!

Question: Would this be a better world if more people listened to the poets? Some of the poets? Perhaps. Valzhyna Mort has a powerful voice!

Your sharing what takes place outside of our incomparably insulated world provides a wealth of appreciation for the little that I own. I'm grateful for the moments spent reading your words.

How sad a reality but how beautifully written.

The bleak remoteness of the victum whose soul must poke through the heavy weight of apathy. If I stood upon Pluto would my light be visible on Earth? If I departed my home at midnight would anyone know? Only the gymnast in my dreams will still dance when all else is dark.