Kozara Phantoms

At nights from the hills they watch

The lights turn on in their former houses.

Dozens of men and women

Whose destiny is still unknown.

They get together in the nearest fields

Where corn stems slightly vibrate

From the hardly visible air breath.

Sad shades wander

Along the dark roads in the valley.

In the predawn mist

They sit on the ruins of barracks

Or stand at the river.

Empty eye-pits

And bony mouths filled with clay…

Midday.

A tractor is working in the field.

Children are splashing in the river Sana.

Coins are chinking in saucers in the village café.

Friendly people are living her.

They try not to remember much.

It was war.

Now it’s over.

2010.