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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 38 | volume VII | September-October, 2004



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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 38September-October, 2004
Prose

The Eagle and Agnija

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p. 1
Blaže Minevski

    — Methodius, my brother, today I want us to have a word, far from all else, about a nun, and this multicolored wind, now blowing in vain into our monks’ tunics, and I beg it gently not to broadcast my pleas – with faith in your respected discretion – I now add. For forty years now she had hidden in my memory – through many monasteries, so as not to be found by her bitter brother. But, she is not afraid for herself, brother – for she has already found her peace – but she is afraid for her brother, for he might transgress, and then God will have no mercy on his sinful soul. Now he must be an old man, brother, for she also is not the small bird that fled at night, wanting to dedicate her whole life to Him, our and the world’s almighty and omnipotent master. Now she is a abbess and alone in her monastery, but still she prays to God to save her brother from the sin that perhaps still persistently pursues him in his memories. And it was a long time ago, she was very young, she was a fresh rose that held the dew in its still unopened blossom. She was a bird that collects only fragrances in its gentle dreams, untouched by the wind, unmoved by the evil words of simple people in their truly pagan village. I say, she was so young, brother, so beautiful brother, and only God knows if she was then only sixteen or seventeen.
    — I was eighteen, and since I was nine I knew I would be a nun. Once I was cleaning the icon of the Virgin Mary, and the sun was dancing on my fingers. I was wiping the glass and prayed aloud for my brother to return from the front, and as I prayed, without my feeling it, a tear fell on the icon. I wiped it off, and there was a second one, and another appeared under it, and then I realized Mary was crying. I hung her on the wall and stood in front of her, to comfort her. She was crying, I was crying, she was praying, I was praying, and it became dark. I lay down to sleep and she entered my dreams, small, a little gourd like me, and she said to me: “Your brother will return,






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