the feast has ended
at the communal table
the communion was being dispensed
you weren't there
go on living
with your sins
you are being absolved
nevertheless
go on now - create your own
Cinema verite story
write it in your blood
on the white walls
of heaven
you don't have
monopoly on your pain
it grows like a tree
of your fears
in the wast desert
that has conquered you
dry sand blinding your eyes
you're done dressing wounds
repaving the road
out of reality
that doesn't fit you
anymore - like an old suit
put it on
the scarecrow
and go
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem