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Ljubljanica river of memory
leaning over the sluggish river,
familiar with the legends
of the triad of mountains, bridges
and linden trees, practiced in
the exploration of that tender lament,
eyes fixed on the riverbed, are you searching
for your slovenian face,
for the one true story.
meanwhile, the water sinks
underground, changes names,
directions, shores, heavily burdened
with lances, brooches, and axes.
the nightmare of earlier massacres
clings hopelessly to the river’s trench. shattered
and bereft of custom, vows and pleas drift downstream.
searching for yourself, you catch sight of
the other, warped and blurred,
floating upwards.