Searching for convictions held for so long, ivy has grown
over them from many years of disuse.
Life having gotten so busy that they are dormant, watching
closely as I write them into this poem.
Hoping expectantly to right themselves now that they have
been thought of again.
Exactly how I feel whenever I have writer's block.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem was and is a Rescue Operation. Behind it is the awareness that convictions, which is an essential way we express our moral natures, have gone underground so to speak (I'm changing the metaphor - you describe them as buried under the undergrowth. The point of both metaphors is that we have forgotten our convictions.) The solution you propose is so simple and direct - Don't let them remain buried away. Bring them back into your living thoughts, make a mental list of them, bring them to mind as you read the newspaper. Examples are easy to find once the convictions are out in the open. You could say this concern with convictions gives poetry a societal role.