Selma Kopić

 

 

Selma Kopić

 

There Are Nights

 

There are nights

when anyone's nice word

would be a bandage

on a bleeding wound,

when a walk with anyone,

without a word,

would extinguished volcano

of the unspoken,

when the touch of the fingers,

of any hand,

would soothe

the disturbing trembling.

 

There are nights

that make you wonder

if they will ever pass.

But there is no voice,

no steps,

no touch ...

 

There are such nights

which are all of restlessness.

 

 

 

Thoughts Intoxicated By Night

 

I'm getting up with you and

lying with you.

I'm telling you

how I spent the day.

With the sounds of music,

shared memories awaken.

Walking through the city,

by the sight of my eyes,

I draw your attention

to the old and the new.

I put my hand over your back

when you fall asleep.

I make foam coffee for you

and cinnamon flavored fruit cake.

I am silent with you,

as your fingers crowd the pebbles

on the beach,

while you nervously croak in place

looking for the key to a problem

and combining solutions.

I look at you while you're playing,

you run your fingers through the strings,

only then seemingly calm.

I look at you as you drive and,

with the gentleness or fervor

of your movements,

I'm setting your mood.

I read your feelings

looking at your hands.

I answer your curiosity

comforting that it was caused

by desire

to get to know me better.

I promise you

that I’ll get rid of bad habits

to be good enough

for you.

I struggle with that,

because I love you

just the way you are.

And,

because I love the most,

doesn't that make me

good enough?

And I wonder, over and over,

why are you crouching in place,

kneading your fingers and

asking me to change.

In the late hours of the night,

the walls and I talk to you.

We understand you.

We justify you.

We cry with you.

We cry without you.

We cry for you.

And then,

the thoughts  intoxicated by night,

become verses,

they become a poem

by which I love you,

by which I gently touch you,

by which I call you,

by which I love you.

 

 

 

Waiting For Midnight

 

It wasn't a night like any other,

it was a night of hope for better days.

In the circle of family and friends

or alone in their homes,

everyone could hardly wait

for the year that was so bad to pass.

Sparks of fireworks shone over the city

when I heard your voice.

You sing about longing for your darling

as you drive on the deserted icy roads

of the North!

You call her to come

and run her hand through your hair.

Tears burn in my eyes like needles.

Am I that darling you call with verses?

The lost hope warms my heart

which begins to beat madly,

then hurts as if it will stop.

This night brought joy to many,

I know those to whom it caused sorrow

because accidents happen

even on the most beautiful occasions.

It brought me you and your love song

about a distant darling you call into an embrace.

I feel every word,

they tap on my wounded heart like a sword.

But I love that pain,

it makes me feel alive again.

‘’I am the one he longs for’’, I whispered silently

as I sank into a sweet sleep, quietly.

 

SELMA KOPIĆ

 

SELMA KOPIĆ is a professor of Bosnian language and literature, born in 1962 in Tuzla, Bosnia and Herzegovina. She is the author of two textbooks and one workbook for primary school. She worked and works as a coach, reviewer, proofreader ...Her stories and poems have been awarded and entered anthologies in BiH and around the world. The most significant awards are:- Third prize "Mak Dizdar" for unpublished collection of poems "Puzzle", BiH, 2008; - Golden Plaque, "Poetry of the Year 2020", Balkan Poetry Union, BiH, 2021; First prize for the best foreign poem "I'm not ready to leave yet", Italy, 2020.  She has published two independent poetry books: ‘‘The sign’’, ‘‘The Monument of love’’ and a joint collection ‘‘Cosmic Rainbow’’ with five other authors. Third poetry book ‘‘Puzzle’’ will be published these days Bulgaria.