Ashes Of My Memory Poem by Dorota Szumilas

a dead branch
the cruel wind
has broken

too dry and too light
to hold
its mast
in the gust

something escaped
crushing into the air
left crumbled
into pieces

by the gust of wind
everything wiped away
not even a smudge
of existence
of your fragile days

the power and the fury
it's the time running away
one and the other
like a mysterious force

who can after all sweep up
every little piece
and throw away
everything
that was
not leaving behind
even the memory of
what was

(transl. by Urszula Sledziewska)