What we will leave to the children.. Selma Kopic

  And there was war. And passed.
  We changed the apartment
  and brought in new second hand things.
  A few surplus people also come with us.
  We get paid:
  wait all month, spend it for a week.
  The plot is overgrown with weeds.
  Friends don't come or call,
  neither they in the white world, nor they here.
  There’s no stamps in the passport,
  no holidays, birthdays, anniversaries ...
  We bury someone dear sometimes.
  We live in debt and quarrel
  and eat ourselves because we owe it.
  The children are suffocating alongside us,
  we suffocate each other.
  Presses a dark silence during the week,
  drunken discussions on weekends.

  We’ll love each other in another world,
  on this- we certainly didn’t know how.
  It's too late now
  and tenderness would scare us
  when we would try to wake it up.
  But there is no goodwill.
  Wishes are in a drawer of unfulfilled dreams,
  touch - the most expensive inaccessible medicine,
  smile - deeply buried treasure.

  What we do to children and to ourselves
is sin
  and we make it cowardly,
  because we are afraid to interrupt
  chains of habits and other people's expectations.
  We're not waiting for anything anymore.
  Springs comes and goes,
  days goes and comes again ...
  We have been throwing down the river our years.
And we’ll love each other, there is time,
  in the other world, in another life,
  where silence is a prohibited means and weapons,
  where hard words are the most serious crime,
  where every day is a holiday,
  so you don't care if you waste it,
  because other will come tomorrow.

  How we will look in the eyes of our children?
  They will not recognize happiness
even when it sits in their lap.
  They will be frightened
by a smile, a touch, a warm word.
  They will be afraid to use a passport, language ...
  Although they have a lot to give,
  they will know nothing about giving or receiving.

  Don't look back at us
who were born old and tired!
  Forget us like we never existed!
  It’s better for you to look like
  you had fallen from Mars.
  All our bad habits,
for you,
should be warning signs.

  Remember:
that hands are for touches and hugs,
  that the bed isn’t just for lying tired in it,
  that it is warm only
  when you heat with another body!
  Remember that every word, that is said or heard,
  doesn’t need to be deadly or poisonous!
  There are also those who are life-saving.
  Look forward to every spring, a new day!
  Don't live in the dark,
  open your eyes and show yourself to the world!
  Spread your wings and enjoy the flight!
  And us, who were born old and tired,
  forget us, forget,
  like we never existed!
PEN CENTER BiH, KNIGHT OF EUROPEAN POETRY, ONE OF TEN AWARDED   POEMS, OCTOBER 2013.

  ŠTA ĆEMO OSTAVITI DJECI

  I bi rat. I prođe.
  Promijenismo stan, unesosmo nove polovne stvari.
  Sa nama useli i nekoliko viška.

  Platu primamo: čekamo mjesec, trošimo sedmicu.
  Plac je zarastao u korov.
  Prijatelji ne dolaze, niti zovu-
  ni oni u bijelom svijetu, ni oni ovdje.
  U pasošu nema pečata,
  nema praznika, rođendana, godišnjica...
  Sahranimo ponekad nekog dragog.
  Živimo na dug i svađamo se
  i žderemo što smo dužni.
  Djeca se uz nas guše, mi gušimo jedno drugo.
  Pritisne mračna šutnja vikendom,
  pijane rasprave radnim danima.

  Voljet ćemo se na onom svijetu,
  na ovom to, svakako, nismo znali.
  Sada je kasno
  i uplašila bi nas nježnost
  kada bismo je i probuditi pokušali.
  Ali, nema volje.
  Želje su u ladici neostvarenih snova,
  dodir najskuplji nedostupan lijek,
  osmijeh duboko zakopano blago.

  Ono što radimo djeci i sebi je grijeh
  i kukavički ga činimo
  jer nas je strah prekinuti
  lance navika i tuđih očekivanja.
  Mi ne čekamo više ništa.
  Proljeće bude i prođe, dan ode i opet dođe...
  Godine bacamo niz rijeku.
  A voljet ćemo se, ima vremena,
  na onom svijetu, u drugom životu,
  tamo gdje je šutnja zabranjeno sredstvo i oružje,
  tamo gdje su teške riječi najteže krivično djelo,
  tamo gdje je svaki dan praznik,
  pa ti je svejedno i ako ga uludo potrošiš
  jer drugi će odmah sutra doći.

  Kako da svojoj djeci pogledamo u oči?
  Neće prepoznati sreću ni kad im u krilo sjedne.
  Uplašit će ih osmijeh, dodir, topla riječ.
  Plašit će se da upotrijebe pasoš, jezik...
  Iako mnogo imaju da daju,
  neće znati ništa o darivanju, ni primanju.

  Ne ugledajte se na nas što smo se stari i umorni rodili!
  Zaboravite nas k'o da se nismo nikad ni dogodili!
  Bolje da izgledate k'o da ste s Marsa pali.
  Sve naše loše navike za vas nek' budu znaci upozorenja.
  Zapamtite da ruke su za dodire i zagrljaje,
  da postelja nije samo da se u nju umoran svališ,
  da je topla samo kad se uz drugo tijelo griješ!
  Zapamtite da svaka riječ koja se kaže il' čuje
  ne mora da ubija i da truje!
  Ima i onih koje spasonosno liječe.
  Radujte se svakom proljeću, novom danu!
  Ne živite u mraku, otvorite oči i pokažite se svijetu!
  Raširite krila i uživajte u letu!

  A nas koji smo se stari i umorni rodili,
  zaboravite, zaboravite
  k'o da se nismo se nikad ni dogodili!

  PEN CENTAR BiH, VITEZ EVROPSKOG PJESNIŠTVA, JEDNA OD DESET NAGRAĐENIH PJESAMA   oktobar 2013.