As I was helping my friend Judith to look for a poem for her art class, I came across this poem by the Polish poet Adam Zagajewski. I had once dedicated a whole year to his poetry when I still ran my interdisciplinary art space wortwedding. At that time I read all his poems and prose that were available in translation. When I checked on my book shelves and found this poem, it was like reading it for the first time. Here’s to repetitions and new beginnings.
Where the breath is
She stands alone onstage
and has no instrument.
She lays her palms upon her breast,
where the breath is born
and where it dies.
The palms do not sing
nor does the breast.
What sings is what stays silent.
Source: Adam Zagajewski, Selected Poems, Faber and Faber Ltd, 2004