SILVANA DIMITRIEVSKA

 

The Freedom In The Childreen’s Eyes

 

In the eyes of children every morning

the new day is born again,

is colored in all shades of joy and hope,

acquires the color and shape of a ripe apple,

red as children's cheeks

and grows and matures with their every desire.

In their hands the seeds of tomorrow ripen,

their every thought shapes the new age,

reality takes the form of their dreams,

and that's why we all believe in magic.

A child's gaze is magical, go into it

all things become unusual and special.

The living room window is a portal

through which we can see all dimensions,

only if we look with our hearts.

The door of the children's room is a visible border

which divides the world made of matter,

from objects, from plastic, from the concrete order of things

according to which money can buy everything,

from the world that is created by the invisible threads

entwined in the point of love,

in which the most important and valuable things

are actually free.

All forgotten wisdoms are hidden in the eyes of children

which we can detect

only if we look with the eyes of a child

which we have long forgotten and hidden

deep inside.

 

What Is Freedom?

 

Freedom is the smile which blissfully

spills out on the face of the barefoot child

when he notices that the sky is clear,

the spring sun peeks out from behind the clouds,

the smoke and traces of bombs are gone,

the house and the warm bed remained,

flowers are starting to grow in the yard

and the song of the birds is heard

between the branches of the trees.

Freedom is when a mother kneads warm bread

and knows that on the threshold of the house

the sons she sent long ago to the battlefields will appear.

Freedom is when the father melts the iron

and from it he creates hoes and plowshares

with which he will revive the devastated land

and again, there will be food for the hungry.

Freedom is when the happiness of others

is more important than our own happiness,

and when we know that we are all the same

under the sun and it warms everyone equally.

 

Freedom

 

My son does not belong to me.

He tramples through the grain fields

which we burned

comes home smelling of bread,

soft and warm tranquility

evaporates from his steps,

where I’m collecting

yesterday worries

and I keep them neatly folded for tomorrow.

My son.

My son does not belong to me.

In the morning he collects the stars

and hides them in his eyes, and

 

in the evening he returns them to the sky

as imagined wishes.

He. My son.

He looks at me with that starry look,

always smiling and

always waves his hand

before walking out the door

to go to shape the world

In which I don’t belong in.

 

SILVANA DIMITRIEVSKA

 

SILVANA DIMITRIEVSKA is graduated philologist and journalist. She writes poetry, short prose, essays and haiku verses. She is the author of the anthology “Angels with five wings”, published as part of one of the most famous World Poetry Festival - Struga Poetry Evenings. For her first collection of poetry, “You, who came out of a song” she won one of the most respected national poetry awards “Aco Karamanov”. She is the winner of several awards at international poetry events in Macedonia and beyond the borders of her country. Her poetry is published in many international anthologies. In 2023, she was declared one of the laureates of the prestigious “Naji Naaman” world prize for poetry and was declared an honorary member of the Academy of Culture of the same name in Lebanon. This year she gets an honorable mention for poetry for her participation on the international poetry manifestation Letterario Internazionale Citta di Arona in Italy. Also, this year she won the third prize on the international poetry manifestation “Tafil Kelmendi” in Kosovo.