a nerve
and because of it.
you quiver and shake.
blessed,
if it is the shaking
of old age.
a nerve and where
it lays
may betray,
much, much more.
it may betray,
why it is
you are here.
and being here
can you.
take what you make
and make it
unnerved.
without giving
your self away.
but if you
touch it
and it doesn't.
then it is you whom
must touch it
again.
and being
homeless
it all sleeps inside
of one hand.
food being scarce
on some days
one hand is
enough.
on others
i can not but
help see
each face first.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem