Christmas in Cracow

Lord, I have returned to my city
cast onto the edge of the platform.
I struggle to catch my breath, the air is thick with lies
with silenced facts and radio announcers' prattle.

Time stops in my lungs
I drag my feet with difficulty.
As if the city were stuck in Europe's trenches
nameless, exposed to fire and sale.

The megaphone's voice led me, rasping as it used to
when we were still sensitive to falsehood and threats.
Lord, they said you would be born nearby and heal the souls
which we would follow once the cataract falls from our eyes.

I will walk the streets of my city as always
listening for the baby's whimper.
Peering into churches where I'll no longer find solace
for the priests turn away from truth.

I will ride number 24 streetcar around the Planty
look at the Market Square with Europe's most beautiful Christmas tree.
Mickiewicz monument on guard beneath furled Polish flags
I hear only the occupiers' songs and the market's bustle.

Where the poor and abandoned
will not be fed.
there will be Christmas Eve for the lonely
where we'll all meet.

And swallowing borscht with dumplings
we won't be able to look each other in the eye.
I will walk among you carrying on conversation
but understanding has become impossible.

We've focused too much on the past
and on Potemkin landscapes.
The birds' singing has gone quiet
only the city's hum can be heard.

Above which spreads a dome
of rockets and combat aircraft.
I will walk your streets recognizing
the slammed-shut windows of familiar tenements.

Crossing parks where we once plotted
getting ready for uprising.
Lord, they say you will be born soon
already the star shines above the Mariacki Tower.

But for now I descend from platform two
among similarly lost passengers.
Hurrying toward an imagined destination
as if it were a desert without mirage or spring.

Lord, I walk deliriously, evil has nested in my lungs
wise men no longer lead to you.
But it's right here in the echo
of trains announced for the front.

In the calls of lost children
I hear the shepherds' song growing louder.
A carol leading to the manger and cradle
from which you will guide our tormented hearts.