Public Republic

Aksinia Mihailova

Photo: ganmed64

I have been learning how to kite
like I have been learning how to be a mother
since yesterday, since ever,
thirteen years have passed.
I can’t do it – neither books,
nor people’s advice do help.
Rapid pull of the strings,
if you loosen them too much
the sun will scorch the tail
of your kite;
a blood scar on the forefinger left,
over the hill
among the thistles
my orange triangle
is rising and falling
in a blink of an eye,
I capture the wind blowing
I give myself up to it
before immersing myself in
the flock of storks in flight carrying away
the time and the kite over the hill.
With one foot in my childhood
so many scars on my knees
on my black and white photographs,
you’ll do it,
whispers my guardian angel,
flying kites
is like inhabiting your soul
with heavens
until you yourself turn
into a wind.

Translated from Bulgarian by Roumiana Tiholova