Amidst years of atrocities
to and by the children
whose spirit
has been harnessed,
moulded
and shriveled,
there is one small candle
of happiness
Sabina,
wife and mother,
no longer
will sand
blow
through your teeth
because
now
you have new lips.
Perhaps
there are more candles.
Let there be
more candles.
Let the candlelight
become
a lake of light.
(21 December 2005)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem