What if we never encounter
and never come to hear
the depth our heart's cry
Will there be no memories
Left after a short skirmish
of words and taunts, a trickle
of blood oozes from a wound...
What if another kinder man
having seen the gaping wound
ripped a bit of cloth from shirt
softly bandaged that part
which never closed again like
A sad refrain, running over
and over like a broken promise...
His quick eyes saw me from afar
With his sharp talons picked me
Gently laid me on his great nest
Made me shed wet dirty clothes
while he drew leaves to shield
Been so cold and hungry out there
An eagle came as last breath escaped...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem