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Impossible
to Overlook
Monika Magda Krajewska
Maria Duszka’s latest Polish-English collection, Selected Poems, which overviews her work of over three decades, is
a collection of poems that forms an internal autobiography, not so much of events as of emotions and states of mind. It’s not a look back, but a continuation of an endless poem about love, femininity, loneliness, death, but al- so about the world as it is: real, with birch trees, squirrels, barns, and an “elevator to heaven”. Maria Duszka’s works are poetry of constant listening – to oneself, to other people, to the rhythm of nature, to what is passing away but still lingers in memory. The collection surprises with its inner coherence; although it spans decades of creativity, there’s no any dissonance in it. The majority of texts are miniatures or even poetic sketches, but their emotional depth and accuracy of observation instil in a reader for a long time. I admire the poet’s conciseness, accuracy of observations, and unobtrusive met- aphors. The content of these works touches on the inexpressible: unfulfillment, longing, intimacy impossible to maintain, and the painful inability to forget. These poems are miniature only in appearance – in reality, they contain entire universes.
It’s difficult to write about Maria Duszka’s poetry without the feeling of interaction with someone close – the poet speaks to us gently, in everyday, unstyled language.
Ihavemyheadintheclouds/Ihaveapoem
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190 LiryDram styczeń–marzec 2025
in my head // a never-ending poem about you This “endless poem” is actually a metaphor for the entire volume. Love and its absence, presence and distance, longing that cannot be erased – these are constantly present here. Not in the form of exalted raptures, but rather as a record of internal states, stretched out in time, recurring, sometimes bitter, sometimes tender. For the author, love isn’t something that lifts us above the earth; on the contra- ry, it is something that grounds us in reality. I told you on the phone / I am bored with con- versations with you // (I lied) / you have been silent for two weeks // you see / I am a clever student / in your school / of dealing blows 2 These words reveal the painful truth about intimacy: that those we love hurt us the most, that we often play games, feign indifference, learn defence rather that tenderness from each other. And that in the state of defence we can lose everything.
Some of the poems surprise with directness and almost brutal honesty. In one of them, we read: to wash you off myself I use / hands eyes lips of other men (...) no progress in forgetting 3
This is not a romantic confession, but rather a harsh, realistic one. The poet doesn’t ideal- ise love. She shows it as a destructive but al- so transformative force. The lyrical subject of