LIDIA RAZMOSKA TRIMOVSKA

 

My City

 

 The stones bear witness to the constant

 rising and setting of the sun.

 

 Silence sleeps in the streets

 which is part of the beauty

of the landscape.

 Their crossness tells it

 the passing of the horses,

the military leaders,

 the kings and the teachers.

 Every speck of dust covers it there

 the spirit of the city that has existed

since time immemorial.

 Its smell is felt in

 the most hidden parts of the soul, because

 only there is it safe.

 The carved words

 have always called for reconciliation,

 first with yourself and then with others.

 The voice of the angels is felt

 in their letters.

 The depth of the water is always

 wavered the existence of

 the Old Testament books

and the time in which

 their wisdom taught the people.

 

 As a necessity for life

 his composure pulses.

 We guard that treasure day and night

 from oblivion.

 

 Bridging

 

 The last station of human genius

 revives the layers that

 dust covers them.

 The furrows on the forehead are like

 last link that the chain forges.

 

 Peace is the interval between two beats.

 

 Luck turns with

 the hands of the clock, and you

 you run between the minutes

 wanting to catch up on time

 before it turns to ashes.

 His handwriting is light

 that draws holograms

 so you can see

 the immortality of words.

 

 And you're making a mess of yourself

 to find out if you can

 to meet her...

 

 Life is not a pursuit of happiness

 but a constant bridging

 the moments of restlessness.

 

 Freedom

 

 You bend the wisdom

 which sometimes seems to you

 that it makes your way difficult.

 In order not to scatter, because

 the pieces are hard to pick up

 scattered across the horizon.

 

 The branches are bare in the night

 when migrant workers return home.

 The desire, like a wave in the wind,

 alone, lonely in the deaf night

 calls for despair to pass by

 the days filled with destiny.

 The thought is a stranger if it isn't

 followed by the thump in the chest

and the fight is hard and

desperate because home couldn't be

further away from the

spirit of freedom.

 He is always where your heart is!

 

LIDIA RAZMOSKA TRIMOVSKA

 

LIDIA RAZMOSKA TRIMOVSKA was born in 1982 in Ohrid, Macedonia.  She started her journey in the world of literature in her high school days.  Writes poetry, short stories, essays and book reviews.  Her poetry has been published in various magazines.  She has won awards at literary competitions.  She was a member of the literary clubs from Ohrid and Skopje, and was actively involved in radio guidance and literary presentations.  She is the author of the collection of poems "Lake Sigh". She is an editor and presenter on the blog "Firefly" (Светулка) on Facebook, where in addition to her works, she publishes works by other authors. She lives and works in Skopje, Macedonia.