Poem 24 In Solidarity: Nazim Hikmet’s Çankiri Prison, 1938

Tr. Joshua Weiner

ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff A Version

Today is Sunday.
Today, for the first time, they let me go out into the sun.
And I stood there I didn’t move,
struck for the first time, the very first time ever:
how far away from me the sky is
ffffffffffffffffff how blue it is
ffffffffffffffffff how wide.
I sat down, in respect, in awe, I sat down on the ground,
I leaned my back against the wall.
In this moment, there were no waves to fall into;
in this moment, there was no liberty, and no wife, my wife.
There was only the earth beneath me, the sun above me, and me.
And how I am grateful, I am happy, to have this thing I call my life.

Poem copyright © 2013 by Joshua Weiner. Reprinted from “The Figure of a Man Being Swallowed by a Fish,” University of Chicago Press, 2013, by permission of the author.

Joshua Weiner -Ralph Alswang Photographerwww.ralphphoto.com202-487-5025Joshua Weiner is the author of three books of poetry, most recently, The Figure of a Man Being Swallowed by a Fish (Chicago, 2013). He is also the poetry editor of Tikkun magazine. A professor of English at the University of Maryland, he lives with his family in Washington DC.

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