Dijana Petkova | poems


To Leon and Itan Shulajkovski

I tremble…

The Weaver

Composes music

With my trembles

From sacred threads

He weaves light

And makes me immortal

with his touch.

He is under the influence

Of the sound.

He steps quietly

Towards a timeless glance,



from vision he transforms

into reality

I live within.

In Space,

the weaver

from these trembles of mine

a path weaves

towards a star,

showing that

long is the way

of the gleam.


Woven with emotions

Most delicate.

You wove for these two children

to come, all white, gentle and dear

that when happy,

shine as silk.

You did not say

where to be kept

and hidden in times of decline.

And how to protect them

from modern age destruction?

What is the motivation

that carries us over madness

towards the valley of peace?

You gave no word

to point out

as their choice.

You gave us these two children,

soft as silk, woven with the invisible tread

of our love, touched by Your blessing,

to lead them through life, while loving them timelessly!



like a white ballet dancer

captured in a music box.


Heavy to carry

Heavier to listen

Impossible to calm.


In a huge hole, left

For people that

Through the wall of silence pass.

Silence of Hell,

Like a ballet dancer

looking for a way out

from a locked music box.

Overtaken by silence

Carried on the wings

Of a white bird.

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Dijana Petkova | biography