In still of night that sits pretty
permanently on weaklings week limbs
a scar appears from nowhere
and makes a dwelling firm
on the so far blithe suppleness
You live to die and die living
every look a gash
every touch reconstruct
the untainted sinuous flesh
to be gashed afresh
to die living
* Needless to say Indira inspired it
I love how others inspire peoples' work, it's like a little chain of creativity being sparked! The sentiments in this are so true. Enjoyed. HG: -) xx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
sad, poignant...good thing you sited the reference for without that backdropp it would take longer to fathom the victimization alluded to.