I found a piece
of it. A shard
of clay. Unadorned.
Unlike the earth
from which it came.
Shaped by some hand.
My mind tried
to complete its form.
Shape it again.
But in my hand
it lay. A shard
of clay. Unadorned.
A broken mystery
that stirred
the heart to see it
whole as a word
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem