Stopping short, suddenly realizing the impact of impending
doom stationed at the doorstep of life.
Tunneling through grounds of catacombs, searching for ways
out, looking for sunlight and beauty.
Being obsessed with the opacity of dim light, unskied views
of apprehension, stirring up empty-looking drawers filed
deeply away beneath granite tombs.
Fleeing rapidly in unknown directions, panic seizes
opportunities to hide in darkened tunnels.
Wresting all subjectivity from piles of uncertain reality,
taking hands, small, away from home and hearth.
Life-seeking aspirations carefully nurtured amidst tons of
death, dying on all realms, taking childhood into unreputable
dimensions.
Strangling and struggling the breath from within little bodies,
backing away, fear consuming thoughts, plastered against walls
of innocence, hardened into someone else's sense of existence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem