“Memory”
sometimes in mass
as sacred songs
wash over me like rain,
I break free
and drift
into memory,
and again you rise,
your tears flow
as tears fill my eyes,
your dying breath
whispering
good bye;
after so many years,
the knife still cuts
and again, and
again
I cry.
(20 May 2015)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem