Verdict
Silvana Dimitrievska, Skopje
You sit on the chair and watch:
the sunset engulfs the city
and the people hungry for games and bread.
The women untied their hair.
The men held out their hands.
The children stuck out their tongues.
It is the people with a decisive and strong voice.
It roars from the womb like a voracious beast
its ‘justice’ and ‘freedom’ and order.
To get an answer, and not necessarily have questions.
To call things by their familiar names.
All else be rejected and cursed,
because the day is passing
and the sunset rushes like the last horse,
beats out the counted time relentlessly.
Tick tock tock tock…
The veil of sunset must be torn
and to pour out the heavens upon the ominous seed.
We need to wash our hands and silence the world.
A time should be set for speaking
or to remain silent forever.
The truth needs to be stamped.
You sit, Pilates, in your chair at the top.
You closed your eyes. You washed your hands. You broke the hermit’s silence.
You said to the sunset: come! And it came.
But the people you did not silenced.
