“Could Have,” by Wislawa Szymborska, translated from the Polish:
It could have happened.
It had to happen.
It happened earlier. Later.
Nearer. Farther off.
It happened, but not to you. …You were in luck — there was a forest.
You were in luck — there were no trees.
You were in luck — a rake, a hook, a beam, a brake,
A jamb, a turn, a quarter-inch, an instant …
C.J. Chivers has the full poem, in honor of Chris Hondros and Tim Hetherington:
Every so often you read a poem — or a book, a passage, a play, a transcript —that makes you wonder why you trouble to write. This is because you understand, long before you finish reading what is in your hands, that you will never match what is before your eyes, and ringing in your mind.
Michael Ware also remembers the photographers.
(Photo: Photographers Chris Hondros (left) and Tim Hetherington at work this week in Misrata, Libya. By Getty Images (left); Phil Moore / AFP-Getty Images)
The Dish 