Anna Yin – Shades of the Name

Yin LE P&W January 2026

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Live Encounters Poetry & Writing January 2026.

Shades of the Name, poems by Anna Yin.


Shades of the Name 

From The Diary of Anne Frank,
I remember few names, but long hiding days,
muffled silence, ghostly shades,
suppressed within walls.
At the age of fifteen, dates abruptly ended –
such a brief witness …

On the journey of Anna Karenina,
I foretell – a name was doomed.
Beauty, brain, and grace could not offset
the hierarchy of a husband’s family name …
Name – a subject to fame
overshadowed saneness.

With Anne Boleyn’s life,
I grasp the name as lost glory,
beheaded by power swings.
The victim, the sinner, and the witch …
all in one, darkened the Tower of London.

Through Anna Akhmatova’s voices,
I catch names exiled into deserts:
desert of despair, desert of cruelty, desert of humanity …
Names were pain, betrayers’ baits,
dictators’ game cards …
name misplaced in her beloved country.

Now I choose “Anna” as my name –
an angel with shadows to shatter.
When darkness shrouds the sky,
I neither pray for God’s mercy,
nor ask for Mary’s grace.
Instead, I seek poetry
as soaring wings. 

From Breaking into Blossom (Frontenac House 2025)

The Passengers of Life

In the end, we are all life’s passengers.
In the end, the river within me will disappear.
In the end, I will no longer call your name.
In the end, we choose oblivion.

Forgetting is a kind of fortune,
when there is still time—
forgetting the sunlight of spring,
forgetting snowy winter nights,
forgetting every poem I have written
and every song in my heart.

Forgetting how far the horizon is,
forgetting how cold the ocean feels,
forgetting the language of flowers in dreams,
forgetting the world shaped by words.

All that is forgettable—
we are a pair of protons:
when one disappears,
the other drifts
through the void.


Pain

If snow could soften your pain,
let its whiteness cover the world.

If rain could carry sorrow away,
let its clear falling cleanse the land.

If blossoms could soothe you,
let their fragrance drift in your dreams.

If this poem could feel your ache,
let it offer all the comfort can hold.

If I were a bird, I would fly to you.
If I were a fish, I would swim to you.

But I am only a poet—
my lines are heartbeats.
They cannot cross seas or mountains,
yet they beat the same rhythm with yours.


© Anna Yin

Anna Yin was born in China and immigrated to Canada in 1999. She served as Mississauga’s Inaugural Poet Laureate (2015–17) and as the Ontario representative for the League of Canadian Poets (2013–16). Anna is the author of seven poetry collections, including Breaking Into Blossom (Frontenac Press, 2025), and four books of translations, most notably Mirrors and Windows (Guernica Editions, 2021). Anna has received numerous honours, including the 2005 Ted Plantos Memorial Award, the MARTY Awards (2011, 2014, 2025), two U.S. scholarships, and grants from both the Ontario Arts Council and the Canada Council for the Arts.

Her works have appeared in Queen’s Quarterly, ARC Poetry, The New York Times, China Daily, CBC Radio, Literary Review of Canada, and elsewhere. She has performed on Parliament Hill, at the Austin International Poetry Festival, the Edmonton Poetry Festival, and at universities across China, Canada, and the United States. Since 2011, Anna has designed and led her Poetry Alive educational programs while also working in IT. In 2021, she founded SureWay Press to promote cultural exchange through translation, editing, and publishing services. https://www.surewaypress.com/en/

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