December, 2013

Posted by Iris on April 25th, 2008 filed in Kad postanes samo svoja sjena
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The years are passing by. This winter has arrived too early. The snow has covered all of our footprints. We never knew, and we were never willing to learn how to cross it without leaving anything behind us. What did we expect all these years? That we would be stronger than The Time? How silly isn’t that?

Today is the day. Today is the day when I’m suppose to meet him. The new generation. A tiny little creature that will forever remind me of you. Or her. Which one is worse, I ask myself. What if I, the one a detail almost can’t pass by, notice that he hasn’t have your eyes? He, for sure, won’t inherit mine.

The ice is grabing the stones just as strong as the fear is holding me still. We are standing at the brigde. Nothing has changed, beside everything else. You are, again, late. I’m holding her hand tight and she is anxious to find out who we are waiting for. As I see you walking slowly toward us, I slightly feel how the water under the brigde is too deep and my only wish is for you to come and take my hand. I might fall, even though I feel like I have drowned long time ago.

I remember that year and that spring. I remember everything.

”If me and you are not one of them, if you are you and I am I, then and only then we can really be we.”

I remember how I used to watch you while you were sleeping, trying so hard to understand, to find the reason why things are the way they are and why we were so afraid to change them. And I wish I could forget. I wish I could forget that we were stupid enough to accept life without each other rather than fight against everything and maybe even losing it all, stupid enough to not even try. How dare we still say then: You are my everything! if we were too scared to lose everything else? We would still have us, and that would have been more than enough.

”If we can’t live without each other, how can we live with this? How can I be your destiny but not the one that makes your life worth living?”

He is hiding behind your legs. She is, on the other hand, not shy. One moment she is looking at me and the next one at you. While I take a deep breath I tell myself, when the day comes, you will tell her everything. A good beginning would be:

”You can be afraid of anything in this life, but never let yourself be afraid the The Fear itself. But in case that would happen, you will then understand why time heals no wounds, why the ground is getting away under your feet, why you have forgotten how to breathe and why everything has a bitter taste. That’s because you measured love. You were too scared to let it be free. You were too afraid to let yourself be free. Love is all about details and you choose all the big things around it. The scary ones.”

We share a smoke while they are playing. Not a word. No need. You knew how to read my mind from the very first beginning.

p.s. Sometimes I ask myself, how come we were never afraid of the Big Scary Things around us, while we were shivering of fear while making love?


Uspavanka

Posted by Iris on March 11th, 2008 filed in Kad postanes samo svoja sjena
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In order to stay alive
I have to stand the fact
that I might look ugly now and then.
That’s the law of fatal diseases.
So they say.

Sa vise dlaka dole
nego gore.
Sa velikim stomakom
iako nista ne udara iznutra.

Mozda, ali samo mozda,
to tako treba biti.
U ustima vjecito zvakaca,
u stomaku zauvijek tudja mokraca.

A rekose mi da smo samo ono sto smo sami odabrali da budemo.

Zeljela sam ti biti lijepa.
Cak sam i ruke oprala prije nego sam te dodirnula.

Jer ti, ti mi mirises na Dzennet.

I ima dana kada zaboravim
kako se ta bolest zove.
A kada tebe pitam kazes mi
da se nikad nisi ni trudio zapamtiti ime.

I cudno ti kada kazem da je Smrt lijepa.

“Tebi je i zaledjen snijeg u zamrzivacu lijep.”


Kad te zora probudi kasno.

Posted by Iris on February 24th, 2008 filed in Kad postanes samo svoja sjena
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”Koje nazive danas ljudi koriste za depresiju?” – upitala sam a on je uzdahnuo jer to i nije bilo bas pitanje na koje je zelio odgovoriti.

”Umor?” – upitao je on mene kako bi skinuo krivicu sa svojih ledja ako slucajno odgovori pogresno ili nesto sto ne zelim cuti.

”Umor.” – potvrdila sam. – ”Umor od zivota? Izgubljena volja za zivotom?” – medjutim nisam odustala tako lahko.

”Da. Bas tako. Izgubljena volja za zivotom.” – cula sam kako skripi ona velika drvena stolica kraj prozora u kojoj je njegova mati pricala bajke Nataliji dok je jos bila beba.

”A sta je sa onim: ’Sve dok pamtim, osjecaj u mene ne moze umrijeti.’?”

Sutio je.

*

”Koliko ih je bilo?”

”4.”

”Kako su izgledali?”

Tisina.

”Ne sjecam se.”

”Kako su bili obuceni?”

”Obicno.”

”Ne pomazes mi.”

”Ni ti meni.”

”Sjecas li se lica?”

”Da.”

”Poznajes li ih?”

”Jednog. Onu trojicu ne. Nikad ih prije nisam vidjela.”

”Koliko od njih su te silovali?”

*

”Znas sta sam primjetila..da se nas troje sjecamo njih razlicito. Pamtimo ih u skroz razlicitim situacijama. Razumijes?” – setala sam plazom.

”Da. To je normalno.” – odgovorio je glasom koji me umirio.

”Mislis li da se uspomene ili bilo sta iz proslosti moze ostaviti negdje na neko mjesto i da se vise ne dira? Recimo u neku kutiju? Hm, zamisli da se to moze..” – odlutala sam mislila a zatim duboko uzdahnula.

”Mislis, nesto slicno kao sto ti osjetis kada napises nesto i postavis? Izbacis iz sebe a istovremeno to ostane tamo?”

”Eh, da je makar malo istine u tome.” – odgovorila sam hraneci jednu patku.

*

”Trojica. Taj sto sam ga srela ranije me nije dirao.”

”Sta je on radio?”

”Posmatrao njih..posmatrao sta oni rade.”

”Hoces reci, to ga je uzbudilo?”

”Hocu reci, kako ja da znam sta koga uzbudjuje? Ne. Nije izgledalo kao da ga to uzbudjuje. Povracao je. Jedno od vas mora da je neka vrsta psihijatra. Vi meni recite kakvi su osjecaji u njemu tad bili.”

*

”Pomaze li?” – upitao je iznenada.

”Hm. Ponekad. Ako se probudim i ne mogu zaspati ponovo, onda da. Napisem, postavim i mogu onda mirno spavati. Tu noc. Za sljedecu ne garantujem.” – nasmijala sam se ali on je ostao tih.

”Uzimas li ista?” – postavio je pitanje koje nisam ocekivala.

”Protiv cega? Bola? Da lakse zaspim? Budi konkretan.” – odgovorila sam istom mjerom.

”Za sve navedeno.”

”Ne.” – ubacila sam tri Non-Stop u usta, crveni, plavi i zuti. – ”Ne treba mi. Ne boli me nista a i kad me boli vasi mi lijekovi ne mogu pomoci, samo ucinu da mi se soba okrece.”

*

”Mozes li ih opisati mom kolegi?”

”Ne.”

”To ce ubrzati proces.”

”Necu ih opisati. Necu svjedociti protiv njih. Necu nista. Mozete ici.”

”Razumijem da ..”

”Ne razumijes nista. Mozete ici.”

*

”Sean..hoce li proci?”

Sutio je. Ponovo je sutio. On nekad nema odgovor na moja pitanja. Nekad je tako najbolje.
Sacuvati odgovor za sebe.
Sacuvati u sebi.


Zidaj Iris! DaBogda se .. !

Posted by Iris on February 21st, 2008 filed in Lost
1 Comment »

Sta smo naucili danas?

Poslije jahanja nema kajanja. (?)

Hm.

Sta trebamo ponoviti?

Ocekivanja su jebena stvar u zivotu.

Hm. Ako ovo ne utufimo u glavu, past cemo. Definitivno.


Gubitak inspiracije

Posted by Iris on February 6th, 2008 filed in Lost
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“Love is not a victory march, it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallellujah.”*

*-Jag går bara ut en stund. Isobel Hadley-Kamptz-