the pigeons have transferred
in that nook above the ceiling of this
house of
indecision,
they keep on cooing
as though
i am the guilty party of this
mess
and they are not moving away
unless
i say my apology
to the indifference of the
the ceiling and the
beams
i stand up and scream
i owe no one
and no one owes me
some pigeons start to fly away
and perch upon a tree
waiting that i look at them
and say something
i owe no explanation to birds
this is my house i own this ceiling
dusts are always scattered particles
settling where the wind takes them
and i am now one of them
the pigeons feel betrayed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the conversations with one's own heart are the hardest to hide from... great poem!