Being: by Liliane Richman

Instead of Giordano Bruno
Who chose flames
Rather than compromise
I elect sage Galileo
Who recanted and saw
The light of another day
And still knew for a fact
Indeed the earth moves

It is not death we fear
Rather the kind of death we get
And if we can
We deny mortality,
For beyond pain
In the helpless body, begging
More than death, the horror
Is no longer


To hear a reading of this poem, click on the player below:

To find more poetry by Liliane Richman on this blog, click HERE.

Liliane Richman’s recently published memoir, “The Bones of Time” can be found HERE.

By bonniemcclellan

Mother, poet, american ex-pat from Texas living in Northern Italy.

1 comment

  1. I’ve read this several times Liliane Richman and find so much in it to ponder. There is both la forme et le fond. In its form, I love the way your poem works its way towards that climax – which was unexpected but feels inevitable. It’s as if you knew what you wanted to say and looked around for a distant and deceptive point from which to set out. And yet you get there so quickly via untrodden but direct short cuts. As to content, each reader will have their own view; I for one don’t share that fear of not being, but I utterly subscribe to the argument about fears regarding the manner of death. Such an interesting poem. Three loud cheers!

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