River

Freely and softly I moved

from the south to the north

among lush green hills

in the bright space

and from the east side I had a brook

becoming slowly a stream

Green hills reaching to the horizon

in the gentle light

which source I was not able to see

A meandering road

And the stream turned into a river

aligning with the road

until the gently babbling crystal water

began to overflow onto its surface

And then I felt anxiety

even though fast moving and transparent river

was shallow enough

that I could easily cross it

A little further on, the river became wider

its current rushing, and the bank more clearly outlined

I was moving with water up to my knees

when a large mountain rose in front of me with a dark tunnel carved inside

To the vertical side of the mountain

a wooden house with large windows nestled

Tall hollyhocks in the garden

and among them a walking woman

with a gentle look

And on the opposite side - on the higher bank - a man staring at the river

leaning on the bike

He turned his head and said to me:

- Don't be afraid, the water is reaching only the ninth stone in the tunnel

pictures - Skieblewo village and Rubcowo village, Podlaskie Voivodeship

Starozynce

Northern landscapes

Wide open spaces

The darkening outline of the forest in the west

Road leading north

The tripoint of borders, ethnicities

Green hills

Fields of waving grain

Gravel road

Gray concrete, blackening walls of broken bunkers

One of them on the hillside

Under a leaden sky

Peeking out with loopholes

From behind idyllic wooden, colorful country houses

in the foreground

touched by the rays of the sun breaking through the clouds

Yellow sand of the road, former gravel mine

Green orchards and gardens

More hills behind the mount

Two tall roadside crosses - cast iron and wooden - at the crossroads

A woman leaning on a staff

and an old man keeping up with her

and a tricolour cat

faithfully accompanying at the feet

Afternoon hiking

among fields and groves

And the irresistible desire to talk

The old man remembers

the rising towers of the red brick neo-Gothic church in nearby small town

And he is looking with gentle eyes

reflecting moments of joy of wandering together,

of another spring that has already passed and a summer that is gaining vigor

In the ruins

Between the trees of the old park

Brick fence

with cast iron bars in wide and high openings

behind them human silhouettes are flocking

hands stretched out in supplication

A ladder leaning on the earthen terrace

I want to climb up

although the light there too is dim

And more human silhouettes forming the crowd

with hands raised imploringly

level below the ladder

which they cannot climb



The road leads to the ruins of the great cathederal

Rubble

Sharp pointed window arches

There is no sun

no blue sky

black abyss above the ruins

without stars

I have stood in a nave without a roof

in front of the altar

and light appeared from above

and monstrance

and the Voice that spoke

I Am Who I Am

On the hill

Majestic

On the hill

A church

In the twilight of the early morning

Climbing to it - that is quite a feat

Upstairs leading there seem to have no end

In several high and vast naves

In the candlelight, concentration and silence

some groups of people immersed in prayer



From the eastern side

delicate glow

is illuminating the sandy path running from the river

gently going upwards

to the portal from ground level



Thoughtful pilgrims are walking along the path

individually and in small groups

I am looking around and looking for familiar facial features

I am entering luminous nave

full of people sitting in the pews

and know that someone is waiting there for me

Apple tree

Sandy path

along the tramway track

Trams stopped running

No one needs them anymore

Lush green grass

Intensely green tall trees

The path leads through alternately sunny and shady places

There are no blocks of flats

no houses

no cars

Only silence and calm awaiting

A young family is resting on the grass

An apple tree growing nearby

with four beautiful apples

I am approaching and picking only two of them

And I see you both heading towards me from the distance

Looking just as I remember you from my childhood

You - dressed in a suit - are stepping forward

since you have spotted me from afar

and joyfully exclaiming that these two apples will be enough

pictures- Warsaw, Bemowo

Flint

Loss which for the next time I shall go through

And on my own

I am not able to cope

Straight forest road

framed with slender pines and firs

soaring to the horizon

On the forest crossroads

If one is going to walk to the north

One will reach remnants of the wayside shrine on the pine

With Jesus hanging on one arm

If one is going to walk to the south

One will reach the ancient flint mine

Pines and firs yield to

deciduous alders and oaks

A majestic deer

not expecting intruders

standing on the road

will flee to the forest

when the wind will change its direction

Crushed flints

crunching under feet

Sunbeams are slipping between the trunks and foliage

falling on the road

and caressing the piece of flint upright placed

And a slight gust of wind is announcing

that apart from the beauty of the moment

there is the beauty much more marvellous