Lediona Braho was born in 5 August 1991 in Konispol, Sarandë. She graduated in Psychology as an excellent student in 2012 and completed her Master Degree in Clinical Psychology in 2015. She has published three poetry books: “Ag…” (“Dawn”) in 2008, “Alter Ego” (“Alter Ego”) in 2012 and “Erdhëm nga uji” (“We came from water”) in 2018. Also, she has published a novel titled “Përtej ëndrrës” (“Beyond the dream”) in 2009. Ms. Braho has participated in local and national poetry competitions and was awarded with prizes, such as: “Best poem” in Saranda (2006), Third Prize in a National Essay Competition (2009), “Best poem” in “Young Pen” competition (2016), Second Prize in “Pranvera Letrare” (Literary Spring) organized by “Pelegrin” journal (2017) and Third Prize for the interpretation of a poem of Ali Podrimja in the competition “Fjala gdhend gurin” (Word carves the stone), organized in Kamëz Municipality. Since 2009, Ms. Braho is a member of the “Ionian Writers Club” in Saranda. In 2017, she became a member of the literary club “Pelegrin” and since 2016, she is a coordinator of the “Young Pen” literary club in Tirana.
My body is a church
My body is a church
where you sneak in not to awake the deities.
Even why this is your first time,
you seem to know every hideaway,
you just need to follow the source of light
that falls on me softly and untroubled.
When you reach in front of the Crucified,
surprised you see his suffering face,
and the people praying in an unexplainable
Soon you realize that you must pray,
and you pray for the moment,
pray for the eternity.
In your church,
you realize that they tried to convince you
that the flash and spirit are divided
Can we go back?
Can we go back to that place,
to that moment,
when, for the first time, I saw the ice in your eyes,
and I decided to melt it?
Back to the place where I caressed your fingers,
touched your nose,
smelled your neck and your hair
to feel the evocative smell of moss?
In that icy January night
you had abandoned the big screen and you were sitting
in front if me,
with a cup in your shaking hands.
They were closing up the display windows,
and the people were leaving their chairs
to take the journey back home.
What about us?
Where would we go?
It was a long time we had lost the addresses
of our houses,
we had lost our ways,
we didn’t know where to go,
so we went nowhere.
Now I search for that night’s silhouette,
in the streets of this city that is losing
Where will I find you, when this street ceases to exist?
Where will I find you?
It’s 4:25 in the afternoon,
and I don’t know why I am still staying here,
in this quicksand,
in this cell,
even why to my right side the window is