dont pray for me
like i'm a photograph
in black and white
turned yellow by time...
like i'm a field already worked,
my crops already picked...
now baked by the sun,
rows lost in dry dust.
like i'm the bones of death,
left in the path of famine...
the muffled cries of the dying
heard no more!
look up! i am the black cloud
on your horizon... heavy with
thunder and rain....
i am the coming winter...
i will bring the spring!
i am the eyes that saw
to take the picture...
i am the hands that touched it...
and brought it to life!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The beauty and elegance of your poetry is honed upon perceptive universal wisdom. These words are deeply ground in the seasons of life. Wonderful verse.