On a road
As poet I see what
-others, seem to, do not!
-That I do with mind, heart.
Then-after I feel bound:
- "I must write! "
Cook my cake with icing
-from my researches, studies.
Look for words and start gathering.
-Time passes, I frame my painting
-of the words; exposure poetic.
Its frame trauma
-trauma, trauma…
Children of the war that survived
-the injured, disabled that revived
-with a single parent; and orphans.
-All of them are barrels of trauma…
I see them now and then
-same as saw that pigeon.
Was hit and had landed on its back
-on a line; between lanes and flat
-its claws seem writing on canvas of sky.
-Raised its head to observe but could not…
Paralysed, unable to use wings to flap.
-I saw it, lowering eyes and head, drove fast.
-To this day, in my mind, I can see bird flat
-spread. Then-after underneath the tires
-of the cars, driving with feathers!
Drivers?
-unaware?
-too busy?
-Do some aim to drive
-on pigeon as target?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem