a saying, 'no bigger than a minute'
staying, in this incarnation, not much more than a minute...
so few memories to hold
back/forward/propelled/carried in a flood of that something we call love... as we are compelled to name that which cannot be named....
it seems we shall continue to name and rename...
her name was/is Imelda....this time.....
and the others, all the others......
we name all the parts of the whole...(do we love maps?)
some stand, unnamed, not so much defiant nor complacent but whole of themselves......
she was/is Imelda.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem