Stone Keyhole (Panorama) by Peter B. Kunasz
Lying in me by Anna Akhmatova
Lying in me, as though it were a white
Stone in the depths of a well, is one
Memory that I cannot, will not, fight:
It is happiness, and it is pain.
Anyone looking straight into my eyes
Could not help seeing it, and could not fail
To become thoughtful, more sad and quiet
Than if he were listening to some tragic tale.
I know the gods changed people into things,
Leaving their consciousness alive and free.
To keep alive the wonder of suffering,
You have been metamorphosed into me.
Although many of you undoubtedly already know of her, I recently discovered this Russian poet. She speaks to/through me. (And the newly-discovered photographer's work is sublime also.)