how can words be soothing
to pains still existing?
how can hushes become
lullabies
to excruciating
goodbyes?
leave that man alone with his palm
let his solitude be his own balm
let it be the rock
to rest
his soul upon a hammock
let it be the softest grass
to his wounded past
let it be his home again
to his journey in the rain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem