From my cell window at night,

sometimes they let me see the sky.

Sometimes I am lucky,

if I contort myself enough,

I can see a travelling light which I know (or hope)

is Mir.

I feel a connection,

an appreciation of beauty,

the best of humanity,

yes, hope.

Sometimes it lingers

but never long enough,

and always,

regardless,

it passes.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

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