Wayward soul bending like a river
afraid of joy like it is too strange
sometimes the night frees me
poetry seems to be an island
Pertinent questions arise
paintings like theology books
nature preaches
old rocks warn with groves
Living room windows with moonlight
the wind of winter
the cat on the sill looking out
a beef roast cooking in the oven
Books become friends that smile
quiet and walks with river angels
I see ruins everywhere
everything gorged in greed
Blessed are those who hunger
who thirst after righteousness
I love the unquenched stars
all the graves who will hear the trumpet
All the ghosts who creek the floorboards
the pride of life brought down
the humble lifted like dawn
everything revealed by the awesome light
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem