Thinking about Anna Akhmatova

There are many classic writers whom I have discovered on my own, later than some of my friends who have more academic backgrounds.  It does not, however, make my love for these writers, or my fascination of their work any less.  I read extensively, and enjoy finding those voices who speak to me so clearly, even though they are long gone to another realm.

The first time I read Anna Akhmatova's work, I knew that her words would stay with me.  She chose to stay in her native country of Russia and be a voice for her people, even though her work was condemned and banned.  While those around her were killed and imprisoned for speaking out, she and other poets read their work in a basement club and wrote with passion about their lives and the conditions they lived in.  I admire her for these things.  But I love that her work was not always sad, but beautiful and haunting.  Her love of nature and of her country is so strong.  A brave and talented woman.

We face terrible conditions in our own country today.  Things I never thought I would see, or be affected by.  I've been thinking of Anna's words.

A Land Not Mine
by Anna Akhmatova
(Translated by Jane Kenyon)


A land not mine, still
forever memorable,
the waters of its ocean
chill and fresh.

Sand on the bottom whiter than chalk,
and the air drunk, like wine,
late sun lays bare
the rosy limbs of the pinetrees.

Sunset in the ethereal waves:
I cannot tell if the day
is ending, or the world, or if
the secret of secrets is inside me again.