No one taught me how to tie my shoes,
No one taught me how to type,
So I just hunt and peck
But I get by, and I don't use Velcro:
Most of the time my shoes stay tied,
Most of the time my words find ink.
Independent I am not,
Not fully off the grid as yet:
Growing my own food by hidden stars
And making fuel from leftovers, no;
But I am skeptical, like scientists
Moving hypothesis to theory,
And though I never learned to play
The drums
I can listen, and I find I love
The thousand rhythms of the saints.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem