Download - Survivors Poetry

As High up as GentianI set out up high. Even if I don‘t return!I exclaimed in sudden joy over existence itself.Wildly bleu gentian was stilling my gazeaway from the rocks and roots and the sky. Hawks over the tops.Butterflies of all colours were presents to my tired eyes.Tiny wasps were entangled among my eyelashes.Legs started to feel heavier and hands were swinging.I took off my blouse, I left my rucksack in the bushand took a deep breath, walked, far, far, far and high.As high up as the level of wind and gentian.I laid down at the pick of the mountain and while asleepI slid downwards twice the length of my body.Luckily towards the softly cut side of the overhang!I exclaimed in sudden awarenessthat while asleep I was unconsciously escaping death.My hat was left behind, and my shoes and socks,symbols of abandonment and constant never never.I was bareheaded, bare feet! Symbol of headlessness?So high up! As high up as the level of wind and gentian!As high up as the state of dispersed, not jet chosen possibilities.At the edge of the overhang there rested a mare with its foal.Having no fear of precipice. No urge, no burden.It brought its foal as high as the level of wind and gentianand butterflies, which were stilling gaze of the foal, too,and which made it happy by their flittering. Just as they made me happy, too.The mare took its foal away from the herd of cows and bulls and calves.Just like me, taking myself away from everything and everybody.But I did not set to go like a proud courageous mare,I was, even up there, high up, in spite of the wind and gentianand in spite of all not jet chosen possibilities still weighed down by the fear of death.Ifigenija SimonovicAnguishand suppressing the questionand the answer, offering oneself againand hiding, what wanting to give,and giving oneself to be pushed aside, notrequestingand waiting afterwardsafterwards askingafterwards not allowing to oneself not to beansweredafterwards listening to the wish, denyingafterwards wanting, tyrannisingoffering waiting for nothingnessafterwards waiting in secretand withdrawingand wishing not to wishbut the walk was beautifulbut the geese flew highbut the brunches reached the groundbut the bushes were thickbut leaves were a ground rugbut the sounds were comfortingto conceal the question well enoughso that every answer fitsSome other EuridiceYou called. From a dark room.One candle only. White sheets.Bare bad. Hollow space.We were received by dark men.They allowed us to dampen our lipsby one happy tear. One for both pairs.A girl, who I once was, closed her eyes.20