Amongst the dead and broken
you have ignited a violet and mustard explosion.
Buried in the rubble of scarlet memories
are the piercing pewter knives and silver arrows
of deep and black betrayals.
An old man gray and gnarled
pleads the blood magic of their resurrection;
but the children running in the emerald meadow
where ruby wild flowers can never wilt
hum as the rainbow hummingbirds hums.
The crevices that hold the hollow voices
beneath the puce rubble—
sepulchers of the forever forgotten.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem