Anna Politkovskaya: Third Anniversary on the 07/10/09

wiki image by Tatyana Zelenskaya

Anna Politkovskaya 30/08/48 to 07/10/06

I will add in a few blog posts and information pages at
the end of this post which is in the manner of remembering
the importance of this woman writer politically and
acknowledging the work she did in Chechyna.

Light is Speech, by Marianne Moore (excerpt)

“One can say more of sunlight
than of speech; but speech
and light, each
aiding each- when French-
have not disgraced that still
unextirpated adjective.
Yes, light is speech. free frank
impartial sunlight, moonlight,
starlight, lighthouse light,
are language. The Creach’h
d’Ouessant light-
house on its defenceless dot of
rock, is the descendant of Voltaire.”

RIP Anna Politkovskaya (1948-2006)

Here are some links to information about Politkovskaya via
The International Women in Media Foundation, My Blog and
Politics.ie:

Anna’a Page at IWMF.

International Women’s day ‘Remembering Politkovskaya’
dot’s blog
Letter of Protest to Putin.

International Women’s Day 2009 : A Simone Weil Poem.

Necessity

The Cycle of days in the deserted sky turning
In silence watched by mortal eyes
Gaping mouth here below, where each hour is burning
So many cruel and beseeching cries;

All the stars slow in the steps of their dance,
The only fixed dance, mute brilliance on high,
In spite of us formless, nameless without cadence.
Too perfect, no fault to belie;

Toward them , suspended , our anger is vain.
Quench our thirst, if you must break our hearts.
Clamouring and desiring, their circle draws us in their train;
Our brilliant masters were forever victors.

Tear flesh apart, chains of pure clarity.
Nailed without a cry to the fixed point of the North,
Naked soul exposed to all injury,
May be obey you unto death.

Notebooks (OC 6:2:147-148)

Poetry and Poetics, Simone Weil : Thinking Poetically. Joan
dargan, State University of New York Press. 1999.

Anna Politkovskaya: August 1958- Oct 2006.

No Charges in the murder of a Writer.

The Anna Politkovskaya Murder trial has ended in accquital. Ms Politkovskaya was shot on October the 7th 2006. RIP.

CPJ

NY Times

Bloggie.

NYT Twitter

Two poems by Liliana Ursu.

Luxemburg Gardens, Monument to Chopin. Rousseau.

Poem with a Griffin, a Pike and Peacocks.

I am reading a poem while it rains.

The day blinks

through windows guarded by a griffin; its talons

flex, its tail switches.

~

Do you remember those summer showers high in the mountains?

The dull pop of a toadstool beneath your bare foot

in the dew-covered grass?

~

Under a crytal bell jar, the still life- fleshy ripe bananas,

cherries, lemons and the silver knife you bargained for in the bazaar

as the Bhosphorus sparkled at the feet of the one you loved.

On the wobbly kitchen table, with that very knife,

you slit open a pike.

~

And the hunting rifle, propped against stuffed peacocks-

has it turned into a lapdog

licking the other woman’s hands

as she weighs my pearls….?

~

In the Forest

I wrote the essential poem on an oar

just before setting out.

Perhaps long ago it’s been erased

or maybe the sea

knows it now

by feel.

~

Like the woman in Rousseau’s painting

I shudder

at the sound of footsteps

-when the fear comes on too strong.

~

The path I follow

is a knife blade.

maybe this is why

the sky behind the forest

is now so red.

~

I wrote the essential poem on an oar

just before setting out.

~

These two poems are taken from the Bloodaxe Published Book, The Sky Behind the Forest
by Poet Liliana Ursu. it is translated by Tess Gallagher and Adam Sorkin.
I really like the book, but I always make one suggestion when recommending it;
and that is to read and absorb the beautiful writing before reading the
introductory and translators essays.The essays are highly important in establishing
the appalling context of censorship under which the poet suffered , but one can feel
it also in the powerful writing.

The Sky Behind the Forest, Liliana Ursu. Trans, Liliana Ursu, Tess Gallagher,
Adam J Sorkin. Bloodaxe Books. 1997.

Santa Maria del Mar.

http://www.ann-madden.com/leBPages/individual.html

” The lady in the portico of Santa Maria del Mar
upholds her cup at end of out-stretched wrist
and the coins slip from my purse.

My heart is splitting with my leaving
As I walk within that dream church.
An angel with forehead aflame has dissolved and kept your room,

He constructs about me the green carpet of my own hallway
The grandmother clock is tocking above a fat golden buddha
Time to go, time to leave.

The angel of leaving occupies her niche at the Hotel Suisse
Theres a cross jutting from her crown
She points to where you dream.

A roll of names is reeling amongst the flames
of the votive candles
And every crown or halo is a crescent moon.

A man stands in the gloom half-lit by the sunshine in the court
nearby the Catalan eternal flame,
I begin to weave the remembered streets.

The tobacconist sits in her cage of butterflies
and fans dispensing her dry wit to a queue of women
in the art district.

And in your hallway a lady in grey
Asks me where I am staying?
‘En atico, soy Irlandesa’.

The only words in Spanish to drop from my lips-
I count the one hundred and seven steps to your high nest.

The image of those indelible blue numbers on a pale wrist
accompanying my steps.”

I have included information on the Celtic Head by Louis Le Brocquy in the blogroll
under Celtic Head. The essay is from the Ann Madden Pages whose link is also in the blogroll
and has been there for some time. The essay is a must read , please also look at the series
of images that are on the opening pages. The issue of light in Le Brocquy is something
that has always fascinated me- along with the image of the head which comes up again
and again in writing by Plath, By Cronin and visually in Le Brocquy. I chose one that
reminded me of the tatooed woman who appears outside of the Catalunyan Church
In Santa Maria del Mar. Her wrist was translucent and upon the front
of it were numbers in indigo or very dark blue..,

she did not seem that old- seventies maybe, which means she cannot have been
very old when she had indelible numbers tatooed onto the frontal section of her wrist/hand.