We will walk in the Riverside Park
‘Round its slopes
Walk and walk till our skin turns to bark
Our despair – to hope.
We will sit hand in hand on a bench
old and pure,
sinful, human, drenched
in life that offered no cure.
But it offered love and it offered snow
and it offered white stone
on the grave of a poet
in our city which we will atone
With our lives, with our words
With the artless deeds
Drunk or sober, we never forgot
How it bleeds.
Let it bleed! Let it pour! Let it all grow dark!
You and I, we will walk in the Riverside Park,
Counting steps, counting minutes, counting breaths
And the snow covered stone will be our death.
Copyright 2019 Yana Djin
Yana Djin is originally from Tbilisi, Georgia and currently lives in New York. She writes in English and Russian.