I am very happy to receive emails from people I don't know with poems and ideas to write about. 

Today I am sharing a deeply moving poem, Tomorrow They Will Carve Me, by Anna Swir, written while she was on her deathbed.

Anna Swir (1909-1984) was a Polish poet born in Warsaw, the capital city, and later lived in Krakow, where she is buried in the Rakowicki Cemetery.

Krakow evokes many both pleasant and unpleasant memories, but I will talk about them later.

In 1934, her poem “Noon” was awarded first prize in a poetry competition sponsored by Literary News. 

In 1936, Anna Swir published her first book, Poems and Prose. 

In 1939, when the Nazis invaded Poland, Anna became part of the Polish resistance. She worked as a waitress and a military nurse in Warsaw, all while writing for underground journals and taking part in secret poetry readings. 

In 1944, working as a nurse at a military hospital, she fearfully expected execution because of her resistance efforts, as detailed in her collection Building the Barricade. 

She wrote children’s books, producing over 50 titles.

At 44, when she married, the priest who officiated her wedding and later baptized her daughter was Karol Wojtyla, who later became Pope John Paul II. 

Read her final poem, Tomorrow They Will Carve Me, written while on her deathbed; the translator is unknown.

Death came and stood by me.
I said: I am ready.
I am lying in the surgery clinic in Krakow.
Tomorrow, they will carve me.

There is much strength in me. I can live,
can run, dance, and sing.
All that is in me, but if necessary
I will go.

Today I make an account of my life.
I was a sinner,
I was beating my head against the earth,
I implored from the earth and the sky
forgiveness.

I was pretty and ugly,
wise and stupid,
very happy and very unhappy
often I had wings and would float in the air.

I trod a thousand paths in the sun and in snow,
I danced with my friend under the stars.
I saw love in many human eyes.
I ate with delight my slice of happiness.

Now I am lying in the surgery clinic in Krakow.
It stands by me.
Tomorrow, they will carve me.
Through the window, the trees of May, beautiful like life,
and in me, humility, fear, and peace.