Where will swallows fly to when world ends
When nests are burned
And smoke itches the eyes?
Will they greet the homeless hearts they'll meet
Justice is blind but they aim to find
Generous coasts lined with olive trees
Does it hurt to die? asks my little bird
His pretty eye beseeching
Feeding on pinches of Saturday salve
Collected from jars high on mother's shelves
They smell like home while it still lasted
With smiles and cushions, for that is what counts!
I say it doesn't, no, how could it even...
You'll just lay your head down into my palms
And when you wake up, you will fly on
Towards ruby sunrise, always ahead
Don't look back, do not search for me
I'll be the wind beneath your wings
Gabriela Duricova's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Always Ahead by Gabriela Duricova )
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