Aged Mirrors (58) Poem by Raquel Angel Nagler
Aged Mirrors (58)
Stained evening.
We can't wash the years of earth.
They are too deep inside us.
It's late in our body.
There is nowhere to return.
Behind us:
A dry river.
Dead fish.
Still hours.
We arrived to a dead-end:
Our loneliness.
- -
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
Wednesday, March 25, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: spiritual
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5/14/2024 1:12:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
The helplessness of human being that I see in this poem enjoyed.