I kneel in silence with my head bent,
With my lips sealed, almost spent,
My hands press together, arched,
Hungry, tired, and parched.
Whispers and mutters escape my mouth,
Not knowing east from north from south,
The plea escapes me, as does a tear,
Things are never as simple as they appear.
As I rise from the floor, a heavy chain falls,
The chain from my heart is released, relief,
My feelings and heart continue their calls,
After the plea is accepted to end the grief.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a nice poem. a well craft