I don't drive and
can't see out
the corners of my eyes
don't want to bring a harm to
any being, any child
it may be cultural
maybe physical
a self-effacing symbol of
my impotence, or quite simply
the laziness in me
and like those who won't navigate
the higher ways of politics, the
mazes of morality
fuel standards, petrol tax
there are some vehicles
I recoil from, stand apart
and greasy steering wheels
which I just won't grasp
and some for which I reach
with two hands held in hope
to steer my heart, to keep
my energy and sight
for the next rest stop.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Keep on steering that heart Frank, am sure the journey will take you on your destined path.... Lovely poem. HG: -) xx