Stari Most
In southern Bosnia
where I first knew you
where there was so much death
there was a beautiful bridge
you can't kill memory
where there is a beautiful bridge
this is a story about Mostar
a story about Stari Most
but no, it's a story about us
and the fight we had
on the beautiful bridge
and how I swore to you
we would both grow old
there would be no war
you didn't listen (I remember)
you kept on slapping me
we got home we didn't speak
we made japrak and chorba
we cried and held each other tight
later they tortured you
then they killed you
it was a beautiful bridge
all the water gone
of course I write this.
© 2014 Rob Schackne
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