Week 31 of Syntax Sundays: Sanita Fejzic

Sanita Fejzic never fails to amaze us with her beautiful love poetry, with these two recent pieces taking a more self-relfexive tone. Her first poem has a keen sense of the visual, allowing the reader to enter different pockets of imagery and aesthetic beauty. It appears organized into moments, but as one reads the poetry over one finds its fluid nature, its pictures come together simultaneously in violent collide and gentle embrace. The second poem draws the reader’s attention to language; as Fejzic states, “it’s about ways of speaking and I play with language to express the different ways lovers talk to one another.” These differences come not only between the English and French languages, but in the way in which they are written as well. With Fejzic’s concise use of language, you’re sure to enjoy the following pieces.

Six Sensuous Moments

Sky punctured by pink
And pastel blue. Shielded eyes
As your round-toed feet fall
On my terrace, suddenly
Lifting the spiced scent
Of my potted carnations.

Graced, how
A sublime wind whips
Your sapphire blue eyes.
I exhale. Attempt simplicity—
Corner impossible questions
—And quarantine my thoughts.

At last, this old recorder,
The intellect is stilled. Silence
Invites me into the forest
Amid dry-branched woodland.
The sun slices the day in half, risks,
Risking a burst of ash.

I surrender:
On the brown leather couch.
I am. You Are. On the brown leather couch.
Chirapsia ignites inner torches,
Desire whose strength alone is
Strong enough to break desire.

The poet awakens. Reconciles
Stilled thoughts: moments paused
And replayed. Stilled thoughts,
Replayed and paused, as if carefully webbed
By an orb-weaver that fuses into a single whole
The complexities of multiple, sticky threads.

What is this music I hear?
Not with the mind whose mood
Reflects only itself:
Be it sad or happy.
In a wordless state of being,
I savour the sound as it is.

Of the Manner in which She Speaks to Me
Say the words you want to speak.
Let yourself
Pour out
Of your very being.
Voice it.

Tu es ma femme, mon amour, ma vie.

Trembling, on the verge
Of becoming. Moving towards
The woman you always were,
Before me.

Je t’adore, tu es mon extase, mon or.

She blooms and is
Out of the ordinary.
Like Aurora,
Light of the sky.

Tu es venue du ciel, ma lumière, mon âme-sœur.

You live
To be
Loved. Blissfully, to be
In communion with your soul-sister.
Be loved by me.

Oui, c’est vrai, je t’aime et je m’abandonne.


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