THE STORM

Poem by Mina Wolkowicz #

Wild roared the furious ocean
Hurling its waves in lion-forms.
Crashing the bare cliffs with mighty motion,
Retreating with wild shrieds into the storm.

I, on the shore,
Watching the milk-green waves fight,
Afreaid of seeing more,
In exaltation and wonder, taking flight.
Looking back, like the wife of Lot,
At nature's weird, mysterious phenomenon,
Rushing with anguish into waves of Moloch
To overcome the befallen Omen.
I, plunging, washing my fear
In the angry, roaring, rising and falling waves,
Banishing my dread with a prayer,
As the angry flood softens its fearful face.


#NOTE: This poem was published in Polish in 1947, right after Mina's return from the jails and camps in Russia. She translated it into English in Montreal in 1978