A tribal fear
was lurking,
behind a surge of emotion.
The sun was looking black.
A sexual abuse
of a quaint flower
aborts the fruit.
This year we will go hungry.
A nascent seed
stripped on road-
cries for water.
We hear without listening.
Death by a grave
was a domestic claim.
But you were found dead in a bunker.
Life vows to stand alone
on the burning deck-
of a turbulent ship.
The ocean will find a bloody hand one day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful imageroy and metaphors...very intense write..a pleasure to read and indulge.