Home is a mountain
I do not live on.
My life burned to the ground
before the Fire Department
left the station.
In the remote stretches
of a deep forest
I am lost but being lost seems
to make me feel secure.
For many years I kept a photograph
on the window sill
I’d taken with a cheap Kodak,
a picture of a field
full of wild flowers.
Finally, the picture of the flowers faded
and all I could see
or remember
was
being there with you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very strong for me. Well said