For My Maker Poem by Naveed Akram
For My Maker
Salty as fire and bland as ice
I stroke my hand on the wood
This wood talks to me with narrow heart.
Homeless tables spring to the exit
After my hands and feet are gone
From me
Obedient limbs stroke the glass
Of the window, of this grateful object
Inside is home and house for all.
I am high for my body immensely forgets
Its chance to stay alive
For I am obeying my Maker.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/7/2024 3:13:44 PM # 1.0.0.1119
