I burnt my bridges.
I kept burning them,
until I found myself on an island.
Mistakes were made,
opportunities were missed.
Now I sit alone
trapped on my Island.
Islands themselves are fine.
Only the desire to leave
makes them unbearable.
Why do I write this?
An odd question, since
I brought ink to the page.
Why write? Why do anything?
I am dust on a pebble in the sky.
While thinking this I see another,
a woman stuck on an island next to mine.
By ourselves and stick by stick
we built a bridge and met in the middle.
Now we are together on our island.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
now we are together let us enjoy. thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.