BOZENA HELENA MAZUR-NOWAK

BOZENA HELENA MAZUR-NOWAK

Daddy

for my Father, Henryk in Heaven

Lonely pair of trousers

hanging on the arm of the chair by the bed,

slippers left where you put them

on the armchair, your faithful dog cuddled

into your favorite sweater.

In the drawer an album with yellowed photos.

A bunch of letters from your old love

and a copybook with poems,

your last one written mere days ago.

In the midst of all this, filled with heartache

I hide my face in my hands and ask why you left.

Yesterday you kissed my hands and stroked my hair

I hugged tightly to your heart,

trusting that now it will all be better,

but this morning's phone call ripped my heart in half

and took away my illusions,

took you away too... never to return.

Now, ubiquitous sadness has filled the house you left.

Daddy, I love You and I miss You already so much.

© Bozena Helena Mazur-Nowak

It's Time To Go

again, night turns into day

have I slept or just dreamed, I do not know

such a strange feeling, or maybe just a dream

nothing is what it seems

should I kiss your tears

or just pretend that nothing has happened

maybe go away quietly closing the door behind me

I want to stay and keep you forever in my arms

I will caress your beautiful neck

and kiss your pretty ear petal

cold, I will pull the blanket up to your chin

I don't want you to be cold my beloved

now please, try to sleep, my love

cuddle softly onto my shoulder

I would like to stay this way,

but I know that it's time for me to go

© Bozena Helena Mazur-Nowak

And It Was Yesterday

Years go by and memories are lost in the fog

But still are just as painful

Yellowed photographs so often clasped to the heart

Remind us that they lived among us

Grandmother had a long number on her forearm

She often said that it was her name

Given her by the baptism of war

I listen to the dark horror of her story

I close my eyes and see through hers

Through the eyes of a frightened child

A world that has been taken from her

without her consent

A world she received, although she did not want to

At night I pray for peace

I pray that my children never know hunger

That they may enjoy every moment

That they may build a future of their desire

In The Gazebo

for my Mother Danuta in Heven

a warm September day,

the thirteenth,

your birthday, Mom

the smell of coffee on the terrace

the sun is frolicking in the asters

there is a pergola in the middle of the orchard

entwined with wild ivy

you are sitting in a rocking chair

squinting your eyes to the sun

and smiling to yourself

how do you measure the past

that burned in a furnace of loss

how do you embrace the seasons of oblivion

what pattern do you cut from the fabric of longing

I look at you from a distance

and regret all those lost years

you rock in your chair and eat an apple

I just need to cross the orchard

and I could nestle in your arms again

feel the soothing warmth

listen to the heartbeat

just like when I was a child

a sudden gust of wind

brought clouds of mourning

a shadow fell across the aster

I gaze back at the gazebo

and know now, that you are not there

my heart flutters

it refuses to accept

I close my eyes tears flow

you are trapped under my eyelids,

Mom

and you have a warm place in my heart

Mom ...

© Bozena Helena Mazur-Nowak

I Have Crossed Another Mile

I close the door behind me with a thud

The house is empty, hollow and cold

Will make another cup of tea,

A wet towel after lonely bath

Hangs on the back of a chair

Wrap me in a soft blanket, and I can fall asleep

Days similar to each other

Will this really always be like that

Someone planted a leg to end my happiness,

Maybe it fell out of the track at a turn

I'm looking for it everywhere, someday I'll find it

And another mile will again be crossed

One day I get out of the house quietly

My heart sinks like a coin in the fountain

Thrown, fortunately, but falls to the bottom

Unseen, unheard, single

The only ray of sunshine make it shine,

But no one will see it ...

I will not be here anymore ...

Dies Last ...

I write letters to you, my daughter,

Every day a new letter, and perhaps the same

I said in these letters almost everything

And still, so much I have to say,

I love you, you know, do you remember?

I wanted to remind you I'm waiting;

You are still as cold as icicles

And your heart is as hard as a rock, but

I still have hope, thanks to this I'm alive -

Without hope, what is life worth?

Someone once said so beautifully,

That hope dies last

All Days Seem The Same

The outside world is waiting to be healed

but blinds cover the windows

and pain clings like a demon with sharp claws

and the way out is like the Way of the Cross.

On the threshold, the pain stumbles over despair

and in the bedroom guarding memories, curled tightly,

a ginger cat gloomily meows.

There is a void that cannot be filled

when children leave the nest before they are ready to fly.

The nights are darker, all days seem the same.

Unshed tears hover, waiting to fall.

We stare at the blue bike standing orphaned in the hallway

and ask ourselves – Why?

BOZENA HELENA MAZUR-NOWAK

BOZENA HELENA MAZUR-NOWAK was born in Opole, Poland. In 2004 in search of work migrated to Great Britain, where she lives. Emigration was a difficult choice for her because, as she says, “Life in the home country on the edge of poverty, with no chance to work. Miserable existence leading almost to madness, and suddenly opens a window to the world and invites you to reach for new possibilities. So I reach – not without fear, after a long deliberation – '' I reach and leaving the past behind begin to build a new life. At the heart is a longing that brings poems “. She published six volumes of poetry; four in Polish and two in English. She also writes prose and released a novel and a few short story collections. Her work may be found in numerous worldwide anthologies and magazines. Winner of many poetry competitions. Proud holder of many diplomas, awards, and distinctions. - 2015 Maria Konopnicka award for her merits for the Polish culture. - 2015 Tadeusz Micinski Expressionist Award - 2015 St Moniuszko's Gold Statuette was awarded by her in Vilnius, for allegiance to Polish culture in her work, and its dissemination worldwide. - 2017 Literary Award of Klemens Janicki - 2017 A distinction for her novel ''Blue cottage'' seat as a child-friendly book. Bozena has worked very hard at doing just that and her poetry is now read in many poetry journals and publications around the world. Member of Union of Polish Writer's Abroad (since 1946), Polish Authors' Association, and the Association of American Poets. Her poetry was translated into 20 languages. She is also a translator to fellow poets, translates from and into English.