Judith Trustman

Judith has been visiting the borders for over thirty years and now lives here. Her poetry has been published in among other places The North, The Interpreters House and, curiously, the legal column of The Times. She writes prose and poetry and knows the power of language, with the modest hope she can utilize it as a force for good in her work as well as elsewhere.


It is winter, my love,

And rain falls on you

Wind turns you inside out

But you are already out

Of your country

Out there in Calais

In Leros

In Syria

In Iraq

In Afghanistan

In our world

In our fields

Our minds and our hearts

It is winter, my love

Can we blank it out?

The mud and the wet

Searches for you

But no one else does

Under blankets

Under paper

Under fire

And you tell us that.

Underneath our joy

Your sad life

In winter.