Every reader who has had the pleasure of touching the book "Supply of the Night" by Iglika Dionisieva (Janet-45, 2017) has certainly asked herself the following question: why should the night be fed and what? I didn't have much time to think about the topic because my answer was given by the dedication I received from Iglika herself. It read: "To Irene to feed on strength and faith, for however long the night is, it is a time for poetry and growth! " And that seemed to say enough about the reason for writing it and the meaning of poetry in general - to nourish with force and faith - qualities that not every poetry possesses and is rarely talked about, of necessity or importance.
The book imperceptibly leads to a sense of another dimension of the spirit and indirectly raises fundamental questions such as: Are we awake and why aren't we? It is interesting that Iglika writes one poem about the biggest Bulgarian holidays (plus one foreign one) and thus the book becomes a kind of holiday "calendar". But he does it in a way that in no way repeats or recounts a ritual - Easter or Christmas, but rather reveals something beyond the familiar ritual, leaving the reader speechless and commentary in places. The poems convey the personal experience of the celebrated holidays - "Peter", "Dimitrovden", "Annunciation", and ask questions to ourselves and the readers at the same time: Have we done enough for each other, have we gone wrong, become enough people or just left people? The texts deal with the subject of family where family members are present and absent, often only their spirit is spontaneously perceived until:
"An unoccupied chair,
the free dish on the table,
the empty fish dish "
they remain as a sign memory that memory must preserve, so that we do not become defective, and we are alive, forgetting and rooting. In the poem "Nicholas" is remarkable the innocence of children's play. It soothes and as if someone is stroking our tired heads of life with our hands, and we are hiding in our childhood, in the game of hide and seek, denying death. Absence is painful if we take it for granted. And how much easier it is to imagine that we just play and every pain is narrow-minded.
# poetry today
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And as a contrast to the thirst to return to childhood security, the poem Black and White, reflecting the eternal haste to grow up, not knowing that when that happens, we have nothing left but to grow old and die afterwards. . This inevitable striving for the future, as if someone is pushing us, is irresistible, as the instinct with which each person is born. And balance, balancing today and experiencing it as an eternity is the most difficult to achieve. The transience of man is evidenced by the short time "between ON and OFF" where the Earth is
with biologically configured
Just like digital devices, our time is pre-programmed.
In The Ship, Iglika Dionisieva discovers that laughter can represent the wind blowing the sail on a ship. That ship we sail through in our being, and our gaze draws forward like a tow. Do we need more than laughter and a look to fall in love to gather the strength to walk through the storm? That's how we like to complicate things, and they are so simple. This magic is transmitted further into the book, turning everyday life into poetry. A home renovation can be a build-up to the past, masking old mistakes with new wallpapers, at the risk of erasing the "love moans" of the past.
Iglika Dionisieva teaches us how the holiday can be found in the most inconspicuous act, and can be a reason for a smile or a verse. And how a small gesture can be the basis on which a person can grow. For example, at Sydney Engelbert - the professor hugs the student's child so that she does not leave the lectures, because the child should not interfere with education. Something small seems to change the attitudes of all those present, all those condemning early pregnancy. The social element here is very strong and invites us to just be human.
"I became a mother myself
with the eyes of a cuckoo. "
is one of the short but heavily nailing nails of sobering poems. The pain of losing loved ones sneaks through the various slits of the book, leaving them open as a wound. Sometimes you have to play family roles on the stage of life yourself.
The poem also draws attention to the figure of the creator, who splits with his books, passing them into the hands of readers, hoping to be appreciated and allowed into the new home - the heart of the reader. The innocent pursuit of separation with something expensive, with a part of one's own soul. "On the way to the bay," "Seagulls look for words everywhere," and I inadvertently ask myself: What is NOT the word, since we so carelessly handle it in communicating with each other? And maybe some words are "deaf-mute" or we just don't understand them.
Iglika Dionisieva easily manages to create the feeling of a bandage that brings us inward. She seems to play with the sad side of life, making her less painful. Feeding the Night is one of the few books that has collected the essentials for a really good poetry.
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