Cactus and the Desert
the cactus conspiring with sweet darkness
to weave the story of the deserted minds
...
old age is young age
under red red flame of forest
life not a wastage
...
To the hilltop
led by the sound of sunlight drawing pictures
urged by time
...
The mother sitting on the rubble haunts me to doom
A child in her lap sucking the dried-up breast fills my eyes to gloom
...
A mother’s heart is always a mother’s heart
...
Standing on a pack of uncertainty
he stares at me with a radiant smile
he leaves the wind to wander
and the tears to dry
...
People on my left and right
Laughing with all mirth and might
Leave in me a life delight
...