Power
To Roman Świątek
Oh grass beneath a stone
white and blind.
Grass hunched to the earth.
Grass unrustling.
Grass how you lift
a stone instead of the dew,
a stone instead of a butterfly,
a stone instead of yourself.
Oh grass how you'll never be a stone.
Grass setting off in search of the wind,
growing horizontally to the sun.
In darkness.