beyond all your hands
i shall be another dove
when you try to enclose me
i coo,
begging, i come with a song
mistaken as pleasure
it is a philosophy of
freedom,
an entreaty that you
shall never
fully understand
for i myself is that
stranger
between a door
confused whether he is
in or
out,
when i fly away
i shall carry only my own wings
i leave my claws
and beak
and some feathers
so i may be as light
as a sigh
i need to see a door
and feel it with my hands
when i open it
how can i? my hands
have been bartered for
wings
that i always dream of.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem