I carefully traversed through this field in may,
Where the blades of grass were actual blades.
Aching limbs,
Sweat covered face.
I continued forth to a snails pace.
Oh the sun did show it's power,
Scorching body and land.
With every new step,
It beat me down,
Like that of a fathers hand.
Relentless indeed,
But as was I,
Pushing on through weakness and fear.
I kept a calming voice inside.
Saying…
I'll find my way out of here.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem