My book is born
first draft
full of my truths
collected over days of fear
uncertainty
that dug claws into the
essential who
and what
and why of dorielle
grasshopper girl
who visits with you for a day
a week
a sweet hot summer season
then drifts away
slowly
just in case
perhaps this time
you'll keep her
in more than memory
but now there is the book
a year in the life
that climbs and falls
and still gets up again
butterfly girl
with tattered wings
who still believes
in flying as a way of life
in loving as essential
in laughing as the only way to go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem