My Healer Baby Poem by Uktamoy Khaldorova

MY HEALER BABY

Dating is a white butterfly,
Its separations are black,
My soul is a sad child
Grew in charity with lack.
My graceful poor baby,
Who dream is wounded, baby.
Looking at stony roads,
My hopes grew into roads.
I burnt, my ashes grew,
Into a flower of luckless dreams.
A companion to the dream, my baby,
Whose joy is wounded, my baby.
Love is water in the stream,
Has run beside you flowing.
Seeing your weak state also
Hasn't gone a moment of waving
From pains suffers, my healer baby,
Whose faith seems victorious, my baby.