I thought about swatting the annoying moth
Circling my table's tarmac
So busy, was I, focusing on forgetting you
His frenzied flight distracting me
Then, I thought better
What was the meager moth doing
That I, myself, wasn't....
Flapping ferociously
Slamming into obstacles
Flitting from corner to ceiling
In search of something...
Exhausting it's energy
Determined to keep going
Going, but where?
Like a moth to a flame
I stare at your picture
Hoping your hand will not swat me away
Maybe instead, allow me to land....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sometimes you have to stop being the moth, sometimes that is so very hard.