Poem: Warm the skies

years have streamed down this hourglass

                my heart quiet, as I wait

in sorrow we row our boats

                through stages of life

on this journey through darkness

                putting identification notes of what we are

                and of what we will never allow ourselves to become

so many stories we could have drawn down

it’s the strangers at the bus stop, anxious to leave that place

curious as to where the last stop is

we always think there is going to be more time

                it’s all connected somehow

instead of moving forward,

we’re chasing ghosts in the back room

let’s leave behind what identified our past

for future holds new notes for us to write on

it’s the things that we’ve never done

which lay heavy as rocks in our minds

and the sin we are guilty of is to never try

never try to warm the skies

- instead we make it rain

*

Photo: Bohinj

Bohinj is a 20 km long and 5 km wide basin within the Julian Alps, in the Upper Carniola region of north-western Slovenia. It is traversed by the Sava Bohinjka river. Its main feature is the periglacial Lake Bohinj.

The church of St. John the Baptist, framed by the bridge and the famous view of Lake Bohinj, is no doubt the most famous image of Bohinj. The church, incorporating in the elements of Romanesque to Baroque periods, is one of the most diverse architectural monuments in Bohinj, and features among the most attractive examples of Slovenian medieval architecture and wall paintings.

Lake Bohinj, covering 317 hectares, is the largest permanent lake in Slovenia. The largest of the streams that flow into the lake, the Savica (»little sava«), is fed from Black Lake, the largest lake in the Triglav Lakes Valley. The outflow at the eastern end is the Jezernica creek which merges with the Mostnica to form the Sava Bohinjka, which in turn becomes the larger Sava River at the confluence with the Sava Dolinka.





The Sava Bohinjka (which merges with the Sava Dolinka into the Sava) begins when two rivers, the Jezernica and the Mostnica, merge. The Mostnica comes from the Voje Valley, whereas the Jezernica is a very short river that flows from Lake Bohinj. Many smaller streams flow into the lake. The largest of them, the Savica, emerges in Komarča as a large waterfall. Savica Falls gets most of its water from Black Lake, which is the largest in the Triglav Lakes Valley.

Devil's Bridge was according to the legend created by the Devil. He made a deal with the people that were unable to build the bridge by themselves because it always collapsed. The deal was that, if the built the bridge for them, the first soul to cross it would be his. The people agreed, but couldn't decide whom to send when it was finished. But one farmer sent a dog across. The Devil went mad when he realised that they had tricked him.

Bohinjska Bistrica lies in the valley between the Sava Bohinjka River, the Dobrava and Ajdovski Gradec hills, and Bistrica and Belica creeks. The main road leading to the railway station divides the settlement into the upper and lower hamlets of Zgornja Vas and Spodnja Vas.

Bohinjska Bistrica is the location of three archaeological sites. The Giant's Castle archaeological site is a 5th Century BC fortification east of the settlement. It served as a refuge in the late Roman era, and features terracing, the remains of a defensive wall, and a fortified gate. It is associated with two prehistoric burial sites. The Selo archaeological site near Giant's Castle is a late Iron Age and Roman era site. The terraced slope shows traces of building layouts and various artifacts have been found at the site. The Telečnica archaeological site was inhabited in prehistoric times.

"Še dan današnji vidiš razvalino,
ki Ajdovski se gradec imenuje,
v nji gledaš Črtomírovo lastnino.

Narveč sveta otrokam sliši Slave,
tje bomo najdli pot, kjer nje sinovi
si prosti vóljo vero in postave."

The Baptism at the Savica – France Prešeren

The Zois Manor with Tower Clock was built in the neo Romanic style in the second half of the 18th century. Above the entrance doors we can see the famous arms. The manor was the residence and administrative building for iron entrepreneurs. In the Lord's garden, which is across the road in the southern side of the castle, is the Zois clock. Baron Ziga Zois built it that ironworkers would come in right time to the work. Ziga Zois was the ironworker, botanist, mineralogist, regenerator and the patron of the Slovenian literature. The castle and other buildings are today reorganized to the restaurant in the medieval style.

Rebro – Military cemetery of the First world war (1915-1917)

During the First world war, Bohinj was an important base behind Austro-Hungarian lines in the period from 1915-1917. The Bohinj railway was the most important supply route for the northern positions of the Austro-Hungarian 5^th Army in the Tolmin bridge area; that is, in the part of the front between Mrzli vrh above Tolmin and Lom in Banjščice. Bohinjska Bistrica railway station was initially connected with Ukanc by a tow railway, which was later replaced with an electric narrow-gauge railway for the transport of military equipment to the high mountains of the Krn front. Two military hospitals operated in Bohinjska Bistrica from May 1915 until the end of 1917. Zois Castle housed Field Hospital No. 1506 (Feldspittal No. 1506), where the wounded were treated. Patients suffering from contagious diseases were treated in the Balassa Szarmat Reserve Hospital (Reserve Spittal Balassa Szarmat), popularly called Špital pod Rrebrom (Hospital below Rebro). Wounded soldiers and patients were conveyed by rail from the Tolmin bridge area, while some were also brought from the battlefield in the Krn range. The dead were buried here in the late 1917. At that time, both military hospitals moved closer to the battlefield on the Piava river. The cemetery comprises 285 marked graves where soldiers of all nations of the monarchy were put to rest: 202 of these were from the infantry ranks, 55 were from technical units and various services, 19 were from the artillery and 9 were Russian prisoners of war.

The First world war in Ukanc (1915-1917)

After Italy declared war on Austria-Hungary, Bohinj became the immediate rear of the battlefield in the Krn mountain range. The main supply route of the 15^th Austro-Hungarian Mountain Brigade, which was defending military positions on the eastern Krn sector, ran through Bohinj. The final station of the military aerial cableway leading to Komna Mountain was in Ukanc. There were several warehouses of military material. Many prisoners of war, mostly Russians, worked there. The troops left Bohinj in November 1917 after the Italians retreated to the Piave River. From June 1915 to November 1917, the cemetery in Ukanc was mostly used for burying Austro-Hungarian soldiers killed in the fierce battles that took place in the summer and autumn of 1915 in the Krn mountain range. The majority of these soldiers served in infantry regiments from the Hungarian part of the country. From the evidence of surnames and the centres of recruitment recorded, the majority of soldiers buried were Hungarians, Poles and Ukrainians. Civilians and soldiers from other nations of the monarchy were also among those buried: Slovaks, Czechs, Germans, Romanians, Serbs and Slovenes. There are also 17 Russians, two Romanian and one Italian prisoners of war buried at the cemetery. Prisoners of war in Bohinj, lacking food, built military roads, a railway, cut wood, carried military supplies, etc. A total of 282 graves are marked, including 221 with names. There are 64 graves of unknown soldiers and prisoners of war. As many as 14 graves have been lost or are the burial place of two soldiers.

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Vogel



*

"Everyday I wake

I tell myself a little harmless lie

The whole wide world is mine"

- Angels & Airwaves

Poem: When we are ourselves

In an endless blue, I hold up a red balloon;

                    waiting for things to happen.

We lost something familiar in the connection,

as the nervous river of thought feeds our bodies,

in cloaks of invisibility we wish to hide.

Hands that used to wipe away our tears,

when there were monsters under our beds,

                     have grown away from us.

So we learnt to be unmoved and untouched.

We hide our vulnerability under our cloaks.

How can we ignite a life into a new heart

                     and call it an accident?

Then we are tragedies,

crashing one over another.

We are not a definition of life.

We collect pieces and dots of eternal summer rays

and flickering shadows of raindrops.

How those insignificant stains

make a much more meaningful picture.

A single drop can colour a glass full of water;

                      before it melts away;

– that’s what happens when we are ourselves.

.

Poem: Of skin dreams

He asked her why she carries the moon upon her shoulders;

but her answer gave him more questions than answers.

»So that the ghosts I know become faceless.«

He knew the balance between intruding and letting things develop.

»May I give you stars, so people might confuse you for a night sky?«

She smiled apologetically: »I didn't ask for the stars,

but for someone to lay down with and watch them.«

It starts with a few gentle piano keys.

Between tiny neon bulbs we spread our hearts on these sheets,

wishing our hands would grow roots

into each other skin.

“My eyes are burning and my eyelids feel heavy,” she said.

“But I’m afraid to even blink,

‘cause all of this could be gone when I open them.

My mind keeps reaching for you.”

He put his palms against her cheek and said:

“Your skin and nerves developed from the same group of cells.

They were of a familiar mind; lovers like you and I;

they were separated, but made something beautiful out of it.

Now the nerve cells keep grasping towards the skin.

They never give in. Carefully listening to every stroke, brush, tingle...

So don’t be afraid to rest your eyes,

I’ll draw dreams on your skin.”

---- so many ways to touch someone

electricity of our fingers leave us breathless

refilling our lungs, restarting our hearts

until there is no fear left inside.

.

It's kind of weird how this poem and drawing accidentally fit together. Neither one influenced the other.

Poem: Shadow of our lives

the stones we gathered have disappeared

crystal air-bubbles invading through the hourglass

escaping through the oceans with no memories

          of our precious minutes

in the room where clocks keep on ticking

          I see it clearly now –

our lives are plays displayed on our dashboards

if I write a story, would you play a role for me?

- touch me deeper than myself, for I am not a fragile bird

or would that be totally inappropriate?

           among twenty-seven versions of us,

we write down the one designed by time and space

I searched for a definition of myself in your words

as if your eyes have a better understanding of myself

now we don't seem to care if the other lives of dies

we painted on the walls of our parents house

writing down stories of the faces we found on the ceiling

          - not giving much care to the one we were living

we carelessly ran away from things – not knowing they always ran after us

we knew that when we grow tall our feet will fit in the grown-ups' shoes

and we'll take longer and more important steps

little did we know our faces will change their colour

and we'll abandon the games we used to play

but the manner with which we'll do things, will stay the same

we had today, but today turned into yesterday

and yesterday clings in the back of our minds

like a faded memory and now we're questioning its existence

for everything has an expiration date

        we were never kids first,

always trying to put ourselves in the roles only adults were allowed to play

from primary school, to a college, to a job, to a house, to a home...

years later we forget how to keep wonder

where is the force that glued our hearts together?

words of freedom hang on the wire through wind and snow

birds whispering their songs at sundown

the winter of our hearts has passed

many people have left the train

many love stories never reached a beginning

         or have lost their spark

many new lives have begun while others have lost their writer

remaining ones searching for a sound mind and a place to hide

as the time capsule swallows us into its depths

         are we out of our minds?

future us dropping past into the sea

the dead town stealing away tomorrows

slaves refusing revolution for comfort and injustice

who's driving this train anyway?

there's a promise of a treasure on a map

we're running like mad men to the hills

so we can fight for the little we managed to hide as our own

in a seemingly small playground we are building future

not out of rocks and stones, but with hearts and bones

and we wonder what kind of shadow our lives will cast behind

.

Poem: Growing

cells are not the greatest of liars

they document everything,

conscious or unconscious,

things we'd call waste

this body has been caged by my thoughts

beaten by words,

judged by penetrating eyes,

scorn by social media,

reshaped by depression,

extinguished.

fallen,

a back that got strong from all the rising up's

there is a strong taste of desire

to bloom

eager to pull all the weeds

so our gardens would over shine

the mess we've made

there's something growing inside

I felt it move today

the gentle sound of a seed bursting

and small roots caressing

jumping through the shadows of the mind

I do not know what it feeds on

and if it's been here all this time

waiting for a perfect moment

to change the strings of my voice

blossom needs a spine to stand

mine has been long time in the making

leaves are pushing on the stitch

from the inside

oh, wait, I think I'm gonna sneeze!