Today there is plenty to be found around here: a beautiful song, a haiku, and some of the mortacci mia – my and the nation’s dead at the Slovenian largest cemetery. Yesterday my grandmother would have been almost 100.
First a song that came to mind immediately after thinking of Slovenian word for “quiet”: tih. Tihe so njive (“Quiet are the fields”) by Slovenian singer/songwriter Tomaž Pengov.
Since I usually write a poem on Sundays, here is a haiku.
Quiet “e” makes “quite” “quit” quietly. Then guilt guiles quilts. Guilty. I Quito.
And finally, here is a memory from last summer when I walked to the Žale Cemetery with my mother, like we used to do every November 1st to visit our dead. Slovenians tend to overdo death – the graves, the candles, the works. As if it’s easier to take care of people once they are dead.
Here are graves of some soldiers, artists, mothers, fathers and some others, including two of my grandparents and two sets of my great-grandparents. They might be quiet but their graves speak and this is what I heard.
And here we are, four generations of women, making sure that I don’t fall, from the oldest to the youngest: Ivana, Nada, Meta, Manja.