Does a son know
That he holds his
Mother forever in
His brow?
Does the daughter
Sense her grandmother’s
Hands grasping
Forever in her thumbs
And in the way her
Wrists play “alleweta”
On a keyboard
With a secret code
Tapped out in silence?
I know that my father’s
Blood was on my thighs
As I sobbed in the corner
Of a room. Olympic
Yells traced scores
In my wet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Some beautiful images in this, Charlotte. My favorite is, 'Does the daughter Sense her grandmother’s Hands grasping Forever in her thumbs' Terrific