The View Of The Town, August,2008 Poem by Lela Samniashvili

Throughout two weeks – I had you on my back –

weighty with your statue – I would drag

you up and down in blocks of flats

of capital. You went all into fragments

across the streets – into the minor pebbles,

into the people – sheltered randomly

around. I drag you in the cellophanes –

for kids - the pills and cotton, melting gums

and candies – with the feeling as if I

fed trunks of tanks.



I don’t remember what way I returned

to you, inside the forehead

the clock was knocking –

The yellow bus was mined

with people of my kind –

It drove us and it tried

to get away from us. And on the road -

The smell of burning pines –

The earth much blacker than the earth –

Was like religious ritual -

The spirit of the place – in smoke.



We took you off – being guarded for two weeks

while crucified on statue of the one –

who guarded them for century.

We covered everything what disappeared

and what remained untouched - with Gori - fortress,

We did return to our selves as the deminers.



The words are also to be cleared of mines.

A poem is as cruel at this minute

As a teddy of a child –

Screened with the wide shot – among your ruins.