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Hotnitsa Roots
Village hidden in a vale,
protected from Turks
but not from winter.
Ice cracking the path
to our door.
Melting snow reveals
dirty stones and faded plants
while water drips on.
Heaven’s taps turned on
to relieve the pressure.
Aged with a full life’s memories
he waits patiently
for the circle to complete.
When all around you shifts
you have only yourself and your other.
Darby and Joan Bulgarian style,
four changes in their lifetime.
Unchanging, they grow in strength.
The bent back of a lifetime’s toil
her work etched in her body.
Gathering kindling,
bottling, salting and storing,
subsistence living.
Wood smoking through chimneys,
grey against a blue sky.
Gifts freely given:
banitsa, eggs, rakiya,
friendship.
Babas chat on shaded benches
awaiting commuting goats.
Retreat to the cellar in summer’s full light
conditioned air shifting
but no cooler.
Starlit sky:
moon full of its own brilliance.
Dogs chained up,
their howling
sounds like pain.
Young mayor fearful
of his new potential.
Storks arrive and we
tie red and white bracelets
to a budding tree.
Vines blessed by priest,
Babas dance in welcome.
Sunrise over wildflower meadows
reflecting on red roofs
and new growth.
Regeneration needs
nature, guidance and money.