Young Poets of Krakow – The Joyful Irreverence of Youthful Thinking

Together at a drink in Dynia, celebrating the young Krakow poets new book

Ladies and gentlemen, on Thursday, November 19th,  I had the pleasure of meeting the young Krakow poets (whether Krakowians by birth or spiritual affiliation is only for them to decide), and of celebrating the publication of their poetry anthology,
. . . wszystko razem z niebem na osciez rozdarte.
This is the fifth consecutive year in which the WBP (the Voivodeship Library in Krakow) and The Youth Education Centre Henryk Jordan have selected the best poems to be included in an anthology after a literary competition.
The warmth of their welcome added to the subtlety of the tongue-untying effect of the drinks and out of hidden, inner Slavic resources I found myself  articulating in Polish.
There has to be a start at some point, I thought, so what better opportunity than that?
I have to mention that my motivation was supported throughout the evening by the familiarity and openness of Katarzyna Grzesiak who, a poet herself, could write indefinitely about love.

Dominika (first left), Katarzyna (second left) and the young poets

Even though we met only days before, we embarked on a common territory of faith where the belief in trans-linguistic communication is an acknowledged rule of law.
Poets of different expression will find a way to communicate. That’s what we thought, and that’s what we did, as I discovered yet another proving ground for using Polish. It was, I think, the best thing that could have happened to my Polish, and I have to thank everyone present there for their great support!
Looking back on that evening, I’m wondering whether, in terms of wisdom, the youthful thinking differs from the more experienced, knowledgeable thinking.
What do you think about it?
The answer doesn’t have to be either yes or no, as any larger concept of thinking rejects simplistic tailoring.In truth, we are all suspended, at different points, in thinking. Young and old, citizens of one country and foreigners, such distinctions disappear, as thinking breaks free and we see ourselves living our inner lives on the edges and rifts of our lonesome individualities, as we see ourselves as children sharing one huge sandbox and playing games of life under the same blue.
Should you, the reader, see in what you’ve read so far a sign of youthful irreverent thinking on my part, I confess to it: I am guilty as charged, and I am going to put it in writing, just as before, so keep on reading!

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