{"id":22,"date":"2017-05-11T20:40:06","date_gmt":"2017-05-11T20:40:06","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/natasadinic.com\/?p=22"},"modified":"2018-01-14T04:19:56","modified_gmt":"2018-01-14T04:19:56","slug":"ona","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/natasadinic.com\/en\/ona\/","title":{"rendered":"SHE"},"content":{"rendered":"

[vc_row margin_top=”-50″ css=”.vc_custom_1515379766598{margin-bottom: -50px !important;}”][vc_column][vc_column_text css=”.vc_custom_1515742347671{margin-top: 2px !important;padding-right: 15px !important;}”]<\/p>\n

\u201cWest Coast Winter<\/span>\u201d \u2013 photo courtesy of Jess Findlay, renowned photographer, Canada. <\/span>
\nwww.jessfindlay.com<\/a><\/span><\/h6>\n

[\/vc_column_text]

<\/span>SHE<\/span><\/div><\/div>[vc_empty_space][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n

Power, weakness, a sting, pain
\n<\/span>a beast, breath, merc(ilessness), salvation,
\n<\/span>scent, sense, neck, voice,
\n<\/span>hunger, thirst, descent, gift,
\n<\/span>blood, pomegranate, drop by drop\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

On the shores of ephemerality \u2013 Hope.
\nSince the beginning of time, forever, now\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

Like on the roundabout,
\n<\/span>she saw her reflection, in the hopeless.
\n<\/span>Under the curtain,
\n<\/span>she looked at them by distance.
\n<\/span>He would talk,
\n<\/span>she would remain silent,
\n<\/span>weak in the face of her own nature.<\/span><\/p>\n

Like a guardian, he would cover her
\n<\/span>with the color of the eyes \u2013 she was the secret endowed.
\n<\/span>With the emptiness, she would deny,
\n<\/span>rediscover,
\n<\/span>the word \u2013 trampled.
\n<\/span>They laid down the rock,
\n<\/span>let the cloths
\n<\/span>that glide irrevocably,
\n<\/span>with the unleavened lips, they sucked in \u2013 the promised.<\/span><\/p>\n

Within them\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

She wanted to squeeze:
\n<\/span>intimidations,
\n<\/span>the thoughts in white,
\n<\/span>with them, to step into him,
\n<\/span>without them, to step out of herself,
\n<\/span>and stay,
\n<\/span>behind the veil.<\/span><\/p>\n

He wanted to color:
\n<\/span>her drops,
\n<\/span>with charcoal, as if with milk,
\n<\/span>with them, to step out of himself,
\n<\/span>without them, to step away from himself,
\n<\/span>and color them,
\n<\/span>with the beginning.<\/span><\/p>\n

Like a guardian, he would cover her
\n<\/span>with the color of the eyes \u2013 she was the secret endowed.
\n<\/span>With the emptiness, she would deny,
\n<\/span>rediscover,
\n<\/span>the word \u2013 trampled.
\n<\/span>They laid down the rock,
\n<\/span>let the cloths
\n<\/span>that glide irrevocably,
\n<\/span>with the unleavened lips, they sucked in \u2013 the promised.<\/span><\/p>\n

After them\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

She would go somewhere, anywhere\u2026
\n<\/span>She would go wherever, nowhere\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

He was there, from the beginning of time.<\/span><\/p>\n

She would return to the One\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

She would return within the One\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

He is and He shell be \u2013 <\/span><\/p>\n

He is not just an echo of an instant!<\/span><\/p>\n

Like a guardian, he would wash her face,
\n<\/span>with the color of the eyes \u2013 she was the sky endowed.
\n<\/span>With the silence, she would hide,
\n<\/span>rediscover,
\n<\/span>the weakness \u2013 pierced.
\n<\/span>They laid down the rock,
\n<\/span>let the cloths
\n<\/span>to glide together\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

With the unleavened lips, they sucked in \u2013
\n<\/span>the never-ending goodbye.<\/span><\/p>\n

[\/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n

\n
Poem by Natasa Dinic<\/h5>\n

 <\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n
May 11, 2017<\/h5>\n

 <\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n
Translated by Danijela Mihic<\/h5>\n<\/div>\n

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\n\t\t\tENCOUNTER<\/a>\n\t\t<\/h3>\n\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\n\t\n\t\n<\/div><\/article><\/div>
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\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\""Pacific<\/a>\t<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n
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\n\t\t\tSHE<\/a>\n\t\t<\/h3>\n\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\n\t\n\t\n<\/div><\/article><\/div><\/div><\/div>[vc_separator color=”custom” style=”dashed” accent_color=”#d0c289″ css=”.vc_custom_1514876695475{margin-top: 32px !important;margin-bottom: 0px !important;}”][\/vc_column][\/vc_row]<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cUnder the curtain,
\nshe looked at them by distance.\u201d \u2013<\/p>\n

Poem by Natasa Dinic<\/p>\n

May 11, 2017<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":78,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_mi_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/natasadinic.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/natasadinic.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/natasadinic.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/natasadinic.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/natasadinic.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=22"}],"version-history":[{"count":37,"href":"https:\/\/natasadinic.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":959,"href":"https:\/\/natasadinic.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22\/revisions\/959"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/natasadinic.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/78"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/natasadinic.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=22"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/natasadinic.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=22"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/natasadinic.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=22"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}