In the wake of the coming departure
Opportunities are opening up
Future synchronicities and eccentricities
Begin to orbit in the distance
Your eyes can only see things far away now
I know when the dust resettles
This place may feel
Like an empty cathedral-
All the monk's gone on retreat;
Or a deserted schoolyard,
Lessons all ended
And the merry go round still making
A few hapless rotations
Only under its own steam.
All the children of summer
Living happily without shoes,
Safe from subversion
Still assured of the parental counter-weight
Even as you go bobbing away,
Upward into the jet stream,
On your own untethered flight of bliss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem