Michelle Derzkowa

Addison, IL, USA

The maxims of my life are joy and the essence of my soul, clear and pure thoughts, admiration of the beauty of the world, and glamour of nature's harmony. Mankind as the most intelligent part of nature should be faithful, good, and noble - in the image of his Maker, who created Heaven and Earth, and gave it to nations of mankind. However, people are not like that. As a woman and retired teacher (literature and history) I always felt called to fulfill the social task of teaching my students in the spirit of truth, love, and deep patriotism. My pure, humble life based on the "Ten Commandments," and high standards of family life gave me great joy and a feeling of fulfillment. No matter where you are it is more important at all costs to BE than to HAVE. My romantic soul allowed me to somehow survive the storms and tragedies of life in my family. I have existed alongside poetry ever since the days of my childhood. For the last eleven years I have been writing poetry. I observe life, think, and make comparisons. I act, and sit down to write when I get a good deep thought I could consider. I write about the world I see and feel, about a person that I discover again and again, and paint it all with words. I have two wonderful sons: Dariusz, an environment protection agent, and Boguslaw, a mechanic. My wise and beautiful daughters in law, Martha and Elizabeth gave me five phenomenal grandchildren. They give me a boost, and enough stamina to continue on. That joy gives me strength and energy in my lonely, by fate or my choice, life.
In Remembrance of the Deceased "Mankind is called to live with no bounds" John Paul II

At My Mother's Grave

Next to the lonely birch
My heart cries with despair
I am looking at the empty field
Green life horizon
I can cry as much as I wish
Nobody can see me
Won't see
How my heart hurts!
I am lonely like a white birch
In the field
That ripped
With the pain of the war
I am small
And gigantic
Loneliness is gigantic
Anguish of the vanishing years!

Him

He was like a lyre
Like a cry of an arrow
vibrating in the air
He was a rainbow
And he still somewhere is
Good, free
Marvelous
he felt the world
Beautiful and abject
With the warm, sensitive shudder
Do you remember?
What was so special
About him?
He could still be here
But something inside him
Just broke
He wanted to jump
Too high

For You!

There comes
Moment like this
To the man
That makes him quiet
Collapsed forever
Without shaking
Anyone's hands
To say good-bye
And with the last
Sunshine
The eyes close
The most beautiful face
Gets cold
Still
Without a smile
This is the end
Of your path
You are out
Of circulation

This poem is dedicated to my friend,
Boguslawa Gladkowska, who suddenly died
in Chicago on June 9, 1997