I am a supplicant
Kneeling with my hands forth
And up right
Waiting for benediction;
I am veiled and protected
If anyone pours venom my way
There's a carapace
If any serpent comes again
I am alone
And where I am, barren apples
If anyone pushes me
I can not stumble
But clutch the clouds
And clasp the winds
All with my gecko hands and feet
And I am going.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem