Moving Of The Cracks Poem by Borce Panov

Moving Of The Cracks



One abandoned house
started to move into my eyes
and suddenly a cold wind
lit up my fire of memories
and cracks started to move
like a deep and spread root
it started from the walls and ceiling
of the room/in which my father was dying,
then came one whiteowl like a snowball
hooted into my mother’s throat
Then, a piece bread from Panagia* and a candle
with the flame which's every twinkle
move one by one
the shadows of my friends and cousins
Then started the flood, that dropp by drop,
spreads the circles of prayer into me
up to the edges of aluminum plates
from the last supper with father
Oh, you, who are dreaming about our words
and we, who inside your words are awakening
are we going to know how to be quiet
when the cracks will touches us
before they start to move
before they take roots in us

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Borce Panov

Borce Panov

Radovish, Republic of Macedonia
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