I included this short poem by Polish poet Wisława Szymborska in the February Newsletter. It has nothing to do with the Outback, but I like it. Wisława died a few days ago. Although the poem was written in 2004, it seems especially poignant now that she has gone.
I’ll never find out now
What A. thought of me.
If B. ever forgave me in the end.
Why C. pretended everything was fine.
What part D. played in E.’s silence.
What F. had been expecting, if anything.
Why G. forgot when she knew perfectly well.
What H. had to hide.
What I. wanted to add.
If my being around
to J. and K. and the rest of the alphabet.
Reader Gillian wrote: “Wisława Szymborska’s poem is wonderful. So evocative. Deceptively simple. Some subtle connections to the letter of the alphabet and the person/thing she recalls. And as you say, so poignant to be reading it knowing she has now died. It was a great find.”