It was the night that came to us
and brought the blindness
to our shores;
This sad, dark-tressed maiden
welcomed the emptiness
with its echoes
of rustling swords,
but also had a grain of kindness
weighting lightly
on its other rusty scale.
We carry a torch of hope that
is shining bright through
the fog;
This idea that cannot be
altered, or destroyed.
It's not vengeance that we
seek, it's rather love
for a future
that seems uncertain
as the distant teardrops
fall, regardless of which surface
but I
on my skin I've wrote
in blood, the message from
my predecessors
for who we are is more important
than who they want us all to be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Preserving true identity at any cost! Laudable goal. Thanks for sharing.