Like a prize so
cherished once,
held high and mighty.
Now forgotton and lost,
not so mighty.
Alongside of a broken Christ,
both made of plastic
and not worth a heist.
Dirt, Dust, Darkness
is all we even see,
to be returned,
keyed, cleansed, cleaned.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem