I am more than
the traces I rub against,
the dust I've gathered,
the crumbs in my pockets,
the mud on my shoes,
the dirt under my nails,
the gritty sleep in my eyes,
the deep wax in my ears,
the grease in my hair,
the bruises I carry,
the scars I bear.

I am almost the songs I sing.

In life, does one stalk
Integrity and dignity

Choosing to hide behind and follow
As a Labrador Retriever tailing a pheasant

Or does one chase the prey
Like a Bluetick Coonhound gives chase to a fox

Perhaps one can fall upon goodness
Floating downward slowly as a fading magnolia blossom

Tell me, how does one accomplish a desire
Without knowing what to use to get there

Besides, is life better lived by being honorable
Is there merit to the rewards

Surely, the pursuit is what life requires
Instead of being in wait for what is in store

As though sitting on a rock, watching a stream
Reflect the colors of the sky
While playing a song for you to hear

Live your life
though it's not an easy thing to do
especially for those who are not born with inheritances
every step of the way is rampant with imbalances
it's also because the world is riddled with contrived rules
everywhere it's still primeval law of the jungle
sometimes we're not strong enough
but at all times we need to think for ourselves
protecting ourselves is the only way
making it possible for us
to live a life
many choose to conform to the practices of the society
some choose to stay true to their humanity
the two choices often find themselves in conflict
not saying there's no reconciliations
staying true to yourself
is not preordained to be a confrontation to the world
sometimes it can be more of an integration
because when you know yourself
you become tolerant of the world
because the more you love yourself
you have to learn to love the world
and slowly you'll be able to live out
your own life
the process is never easy
but it's the only way to understanding life
to loving it most of the time.

An honorable human relationship — that is, one in which two people have the right to use the word “love” — is a process, delicate, violent, often terrifying to both persons involved, a process of refining the truths they can tell each other.

It is important to do this because it breaks down human self-delusion and isolation.

It is important to do this because in doing so we do justice to our own complexity.

It is important to do this because we can count on so few people to go that hard way with us.

from  On Lies, Secrets, and Silence: Selected Prose 1966-1978

I suffered with You, Belarus, my beloved,
When a police baton *****
You at the police station,
In full drill.

I was there when they fired at You,
When they killed the helpless
On the street without mercy,
In envy, in anger.

I was when they beat with a baton,
When they hit the eyes with a baton
In the police torture
Or in the yard by the wall.

I was when they beat uncontrollably,
When the lying, despite wanting to
Prove his innocence,
Got the fifth stick in the bone.

I was when they took off the woman’s
******* and were pushing a baton there,
And in the man’s ****
It was being inserted - until the whine.

I was when they beat one in the forest,
The spirit still carries me there,
I saw hundreds lying in the alps,
I saw the dead in the halls.

Hospitals ...

It was the baton of Łuka,
Which *****,
Which killed,
Which beat,
Which knocked out teeth,
Which bruised,
It was the baton of Łuka.

The bullets were Łuka’s,
The hands were Łuka’s,
I give the large double doors back to Łuka:
Let you be rotten in a bad way.

The baton was Łuka’s.
It was the baton of Łuka.
The baton was Łuka’s.
It was the baton of Łuka.

You wronged a simple man,
And the walls will collapse anyway,
It's not balderdash,
Oh, you ignoramuses,
Oh, you ... stupid.

Oh you the bows! ...
Oh, you, Łuka (the Bow)!