I'm sick of these clouds
That are always over my head,
I can't fight them,
For I know they are right.
I'm fighting my way through the world,
Shouldering my burdens every day
Simply to come home and while releasing them,
Have heavier ones jump me from behind.
I'm like a wave,
Trying to go somewhere else,
But eventually always coming back in
And now I have to be free or drown in my own sorrows.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hello, Kim. Interesting how you perceive this period of your life as a tide and yourself as a wave that is trying to make its way through. It is a powerful metaphor and as a reader I am left with a sense of hope; waves flow ceaselessly...Best of luck with your writing.