Monday Mourn

The house looked as sweet as it ever has today. The photographer came to take pictures. We looked at two shitty houses. Realized we are probably going to have to up our budget and decided to put the search on hold until we get back from vacation. In the big scheme of life, none of this is a big deal. Stressful, but not a big deal. A colleague died Saturday morning of a massive heart attack, leaving behind a wife and four kids. Life sometimes really makes no sense at all.

Night is a Cistern

Night is a cistern. Owls sing. Refugees tread meadow roads
with the loud rustling of endless grief.
Who are you, walking in this worried crowd
and who will you become, who will you be
when day returns, and ordinary greetings circle round.
Night is a cistern. The last pairs dance at a country ball.
High waves cry from the sea, the wind rocks pines.
An unknown hand draws the dawn’s first stroke.
Lamps fade, a motor chokes.
Before us, life’s path, and instants of astronomy.

-By Adam Zagajewski, translated by Clare Cavanagh