Moods

By Ekaterina Dimitrova Bojilova

For those who have discovered life, in illness, difficulty and despair, I wish that on your wings you'll fly, to diamonds, stars and dizzying flare.

-- Ekaterina D. Bojilova.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Sep 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456787417

Ekaterina Dimitrova Bojilova

I have been living for fifteen years now with a rare and heavy health problem that has already put me through enormous trials, personal failures and the necessity to constantly deal with injustice and prejudice. The world is not a place of equal right, and I can attest to this by simply telling the story of my life. I have chosen to convey this message in the form of my poetry, and I feel that readers who care enough to pick up my book will somehow connect with me. This is my second collection of poetry the first one being entitled "The Color of White, and I think here I have progressed and developed as a poetess, while still carrying on the same message. I started life with one simple wish: to become someone who studies the wonderful workings of the living world. My dreams eventually carried me to a prestigious laboratory at the Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Institute, where I miserably failed as a talented student with a severe illness. What to do, such is life. After struggling to find occupation in the United States, I eventually joined my wonderful, ever-loving husband Jaroslav Albert (who is also an extremely talented scientist) in Brussels, Belgium. Here, after two years of loss and darkness, I found two professionals that brought light and hope into my life. In a sense, this book is dedicated to them to these noble, highly expert people whose, in my opinion, role in this world is that of saving people's lives. I hope this book, a modest attempt to convey my understanding of those affected by difficult illness, will inspire them to keep on fighting in this difficult life and succeed in their dreams, just as I am hoping to succeed in mine.

Book preview

A Night with the Moon

The hush of dusk sank to the ground, into the deep slow color of the night;

No silver star peeked nearby, no feather made a falling sound.

Departed they who’re closest to my heart—my reverie’s protectors in their love—

Here I remain—no sound, no breath, suspended in my company alone.

Give me some rest, I call out to the Moon—shine through my window just this once;

Wash over me in hazes of the blue—just this once, sing me into calm.

Awakened, but perhaps, asleep?—I see the moon’s celestial eye,

Why am I all alone in here, with nobody besides her on my mind?

All those I’ve willed myself to leave—have not they been there all the while?

And then, I feel her haze so light—a drifting something within me;

The moon is good tonight, I think—at least its kind and good to me.

I open up my eyes, in fear, afraid that she will simply vanish;

But she is full of her surprise: tonight, she’ll never leave me anguish.

At last, she disappears, into a soothing corridor of darkness.

I wonder: Is it bright—this stairway to gladness?

A lullaby, a song, a thought, for those that I have willed behind;

How truly beautiful the moon, was during this most wondrous night.

missing image file

A Rider Needs to Listen to her Horse

This poem is a poem of Love, a love whose love is not enough.

A love that always to all happens, a sheer, useless, subtle madness.

It seems so trite, so old and torn, to write of something that’s so worn.

What but for me it’s just a first, that streaming numbness of no words.

That feel of someone who’s forbidden, to keep away and always hidden—

A horse that sees a gate ahead, and knows the gate is just a trap.

A horse that keeps on riding forward, towards that gate that’ll never open,

A horse that sometimes stops and hops in restless thoughts of its own loss.

And then, almost as surely, to