Yerp…I wasn’t sure about today’s prompt, because it is so different from anything I’ve ever done or tried to do, but you know what? Nothing amazing was ever accomplished from within the comfort bubble, so here goes…
The poem below was written by a Croatian poet, Marijana Radmilović. The photograph came from a search for black and white photos. I don’t know whom to credit. If it’s yours, let me know and I’ll credit you. Thank you.
naše svakodnevno, a ti joj kradom
Otkud sada tako pristala.
Neki je čovjek maloprije bio ovdje,
njegovao moje rečenice:
Na ovom mjestu moraš stati
i pokušati sve.
S kakvom ti radošću otvaram vrata.
Prvi put činim za tebe
sigurnu razdaljinu od zdravlja
Žlica koja se bila zametnula,
liječeno jutro, sve njeno prešućeno.
Smrt ima bijelo, nečisto lice
i dobra nam je, sve ove godine.
it measures time, its slow growth
Windy days cry loudly.
Near enough to see but covered in mist
negating its presence, reminiscing:
You move, making all stillness
I wonder at the absurd way
we grow into seasons
and fall as all things must
A magical time of brilliant simplicity,
slow motion, still nothing helps.
When the time comes, and one of us falls,
the other will be the one standing.