Monday, 18 February 2013

Danube - Duel

Is that a boat or a coffin
bobbing up and down on the river
framed by the intricate lace of the parliament?

The country taught me hate
the tightness of place, sometimes echoed
when the gales gather and attack this island.

No escape, lie low, let the winds blow overhead,
wait, even if you are sitting on a hot spring
even if you fume vitriol.

Remembering the river’s bank
ragged lines of men and women, shot
after they were told to slip off their shoes.

Boney bare trees reach up into the sky
grab the pain - hanging on
pulling it down, draw it deep into the soil.

The Danube splits the land. From the crack
incredible amounts of fresh water, hot and clear
bubble up with the smell of rotten eggs.

Healing waters - they say -
good for the bones and joints,
the ailments that plague the core of the nation.

The never got buried float away into the sky -
in the spas soaking people play chess
in sulphuric silence.

© Csilla Toldy


Rabid right on the rise in Hungary

Csilla Toldy left Hungary in 1981. She does not wish to return. Csilla's stories and poetry have appeared in The Black Mountain Review, Southword, Fortnight, Poetry Monthly, and Strictly Writing Award. Her blog is http://www.csillatoldy.com/

2 comments:

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  2. Thank-you for your fine poetry Csilla and making me aware of the Guardian article.

    Love and hate defines us an individual and as a nation.

    I have no problem with people following their chosen or inherited religion - but fear the destructive and divisive power of it - of that of an individual (who holds power)warping the contents of his Holy Book to match his warped mind and how this is so easily seeded into the minds of an unhappy population.

    So much evil is done in the name of God...

    I am sad that you feel you can no longer return to the country of you birth, sad indeed.

    Anna :o]

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