(for Philip Henry Jones)
How can one justify writing a lyrical poem after Auschwitz?
After rehearsing the rituals of the measures, after beating her wings against the bars of her cage, kneeling and begging for understanding, then gaining confidence to cast off the veil of literature and weave a coat of life from the threads of fate, the poet moves across paper, then boasts and jumps as the intention becomes act and body responds to body in a pas de deux, then dances widely and in intimacy with to the earth as if it still stank of ash, and prayer and poems merely gestures of the mind.
‘Proffes y bardd VI’
© copyright text and translation Mary Burdett-Jones 2022