No one
heard the turmoil
in my sleep
nor the rattling sound
barricading my dreams
inside
my stuttering mind-
silence
must be deafening indeed.
I bruised my brown eyes
as I furrowed my forehead
and dusted attachments
from the barnyard
clinging to my
wrinkled attire –
eyes so guilty
from atonement.
The air was nostalgic
like innocence of relief
after cattle mooed
at my disorientation-
fresh air sifted
through a window
where I caught
a glimpse of daylight.
I woke up
with a sigh of
sprinkled bewilderment-
looking at the wound
that never let go
like a ploy of Time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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