To Writing Poem by Tea Kawana

I won’t pity myself,
In spite of being in the midst of
Telling whether my heart’s room
Is luminous or dim.
Radiant or dull.
I won’t pity myself,
In this while,
Where I sit at this board,
And my tools don’t match.
My tools don’t match.
I won’t pity myself,
In spite of my heart’s ongoing questions
Which erupt from my core
And explode within me,
And my heart cries
Its
Own
tears
Circumstances sway and
Sway my body

I am only disquiet
About us.
Shall we continue to be?