Almost six years ago,
Under the sky,
I watched the stars
And I swallowed a sigh.

You spoke of sunshine
And laughter and life…
I remained red-eyed,
Saddened with strife.

The wind of your woes was
As much as I heard.
I sent you two roses
And whispered a word.

My life lived inside me
When your life was near.
And my heart faded
When yours disappeared.

There were spirits inside
Your eyes flickering like fire,
They would rise, and then die,
And then trembling, rise higher.

Alone in the morning,
I stood with the wind.
I stepped out inside me
And silently sinned.

I spoke into the sea.
I woke wondering why
I saw inside me
The whole thundering sky.

I turned, telling none,
Found the hills, flew away
Far from the sun,
And the brilliance of day.

Many years waited,
And I waited longer.
And yet, unabated,
The silence grows stronger.

And violence still flanks
Us for so many years,
Since we last sank
Into ashes and tears.

I try to remember
The sound of the snow
The smells of December
I knew long ago…

I try to see faces
I forsook too fast,
And to believe places
Of faraway pasts

Are not lost forever;
Forgotten, or wrong.
For I prayed I never
Would forget a song.

Six years ago I stood
Under the sky,
Within it no longer
I’d learned not to fly.
I watched you wilting
And tried not to cry.

If you wander, wondering,
After six years,
With all the world’s thundering,
Wrapped in your tears,

And if you find me,
Hide deep inside me.
Try to remind me
Of what lives behind me.

If you should meet me
Someday again,
Death won’t defeat me
Like it did then.

There’s no one who knows us.
And when the dawn’s done,
You send the roses,
And I’ll send the sun.

- Written by Anna Williams at age 22

It had been hated. Degraded.
Hardly heart-defying. Shaded.
Hard warmth. For a moment’s pleasure.
Mindless. Careless. Lady’s leisure.
And yet the strongest of the weak
Can break in sobs and fade grow meek.
None can tell you your belief.
None may soothe you in your grief.
None can tell you where to go.
None but you can ever know.
When you learn that, when you see,
It may break your heart in three.
Yet ’tis not bad to dance alone.
May your eyes remain your own.

- Written by Anna Williams at age 17
in Prague, Czechoslovakia

There, the oases , their streets full of trees
And bagels and children, were life at its knees…
Where things could be bought, where no one had seen
Someone like I was, when I was eighteen.

The desert men, whose tired old eyes
Gazed with faintly veiled surprise,
Scrutinized my dim disguise
And made my memories despise
Nights I’d trembled, days I’d cried,
Tears I’d wasted, drowned inside
Years of shame and broken pride.

They gazed without mercy, their eyes breathing fire,
Dark like the gypsies of seething desire.
They followed my footsteps, they swallowed my breath,
They bathed in my shadows, entreated my death.

I met the men of paradise
Upon a sea of amber ice…
Traveling with the turning tide.
But I dared to dive inside
The fading lives, before they died.

I sat for hours and watched and heard
Every whisper, every word
Of broken, barely breathing stories,
Stained in pain and worthless glories.

In Xinjiang, I cast my eyes
Easily upon the skies,
And I tore my life apart.
I glanced within a broken heart.
I breathed upon the burning bars
And made myself a sea of stars.

Beyond the far side of the sky,
Half forgotten, faded, far,
There lies a land where shadows die…
Beyond the winds that sweep the stars.

Be it home or be it heaven,
It lies loved, or lost, forgiven.
You may recall, but though I try
I’ve music for a memory.
I only search myself and sigh.

I only wish I still were free.
I only wish I could remember
The meaning of the mystery,
The meaning of my Red November,
Who haunts and holds my history.

Beauty breathes in every glance
You care to cast on earth or sea,
And all your life becomes a dance
If you decide it ought to be.

- Written by Anna Williams at age 21

I hummed to heaven
With little to lose
Walking and watching
My brown leather shoes,

Along Spanish highways,
Too tired not to smile.
Orchards of olives
Draped mile after mile.

At the side of the road,
With my scarf and my tie,
And my feet growing cold,
As the sun lost the sky,

I trembled silently,
Frightened and free.
I slept on Christmas Eve
Under a tree.

I saw the moon
In the dark and cold sky.
I spoke too soon,
And the feeling flew by.

I lay alone
On the cold orchard ground,
Solid like stone…
As my world turned around.

I gathered dew
From the cold morning grass.
I thought of you,
And I let the thought pass.

Sometimes I dreamed
I might finally find you,
Far as you seemed,
At least to remind you.

At the side of the road,
With my scarf and my tie,
And my feet growing cold
And my heart in the sky.

At the side of my life,
With my famine and fear,
And my eyes on my knife,
As the future grew near;

With my feet in a stream
Of water and scars,
Living a dream
And sleeping in cars,

I sang of sadness and
Traveling shoes,
Murmuring mystery,
Singing the blues.

Next to a gas pump,
I sat and cried,
On the wrong highway,
Wanting a ride.

Maybe the music that
Lives in your voice
Fell back inside me and
I had a choice.

I turned and fled my fears.
I found the feeling.
I chose to work for years
Under a ceiling.

I found a scarf lying
Black on the pavement.
I found a tie after
Years of enslavement.

I put my scarf away
Under a bed.
I chose to learn, and stay…
And my heart bled.

Sometimes I stand by the
Window at night,
Watching the highway stretch
Out of my sight.

And the wind watches me
Lingering at last.
I sing the songs you see
Inside my past.

And the breeze breathes across;
Tickles my face;
Whispers, reminds me that
One day, someplace,

I’ll stand with you again
In your heart’s heat.
…I’ll feel the highway stretch
Under my feet.

- Written by Anna Williams at age 21

I lived to love.
I lived to write.
I looked above
Into the night.

I would part
The winds, and pass…
And my heart
Was made of glass.

My face was pale
But filled with fire.
My feet were frail,
But they desired

To feel the day,
The soil, the stone;
Pretending they
Were not alone.

I saw myself
Inside the sky.
I was alone there,
So I cried.

The river mocked
The petty frantic
Way I thought
And the romantic
Way I talked
The dreams I sought,
The streets I walked.

I smiled, I sighed,
I wished in fountains
Almost died
Inside the mountains.

I lost my heart,
When I was young.
I fell apart.
My life grew numb.

I could not say
What filled my head;
The words that lay
Within my heart.
My lips were dry,
My fingers dead.

When I was young
I found myself,
Somewhere, hidden
On a shelf.

I breathed belief.
I broke in two.
I sighed relief
When I saw you.

- Written by Anna Williams at age 21

Stars are silent
In my heart,
And the whole world
Stands apart.

I sing softly
To myself,
Humming elf songs
From the shelf.

People glance at
Me and frown,
Puzzled, frightened.
I look down.

People pass me
By and they
Cannot grasp me
Look away.

Sometimes someone
Hesitates,
Looks at me and
Wonders, waits.

Sometimes I hold
Out my hand,
With myself
Inside it and

Hope somebody
Understands.
Saying this is
Who I am.

Very rarely
Someone sees me,
And I barely
Feel it frees me.

They perceive the
Hopes I haunt.
They believe the
Worlds I want.

Warily I
Squint and smile.
Someone loves me
For awhile.

Then they see the
Volatile
Things in me
Who I beguile,

And they tire of
How I grieve,
Lost like madness,
And they leave.

I sing softly
By myself,
Placing pledges
On the shelf.

Putting promises
Away.
People say them.
They don’t stay.

Watch the sky
Grow bright and blue.
I don’t want to
Frighten you.

Watch the worlds
Whisk words away.
Don’t believe
The things you say.

I grow guarded –
Build a wall
Of smiles and irony.
I fall

Friendless, free
Into the far
And foreign sea
Of who you are.
And watch a star.

- Written by Anna Williams at age 21

Reddened rainbows in the sun
Meant my worlds, and yet, not one.
Shattered dreams about my feet;
Shattered dreams incomplete.

As I pondered through the mountains,
I have met the crystal fountains.
I have seen the moonlight shining.
I have watched the stars refining.
Stumbling, broken, bare of glory,
I have watched the angel’s story.
Weak and injured, cold and crying,
I have felt the joy of flying.
Running hopeless through the grasses,
I have watched as springtime passes.
Kneeling, pining, pained and frozen,
Happy fantasies were chosen.
Wishes of the seas and flowers
Overrode the burning powers.
Frozen scars draw great and nigh,
Yet believing holds us high.

Beaten, torn, however shattered,
Dreams are what, to hearts, have mattered.
To the ocean or the sky roam.
Keep within the sacred dream home.
When the stars have lost their last light,
Dreams alone will light the midnight.

- Written by Anna Williams at Age 15