I pray to goddess gods and devils,
they refuse me any deal.
I sing songs and I cry and I stumble,
but still you don't become real.
If you'd just come to life,
when I held your clothes;
I'd sink in your eyes,
play games with your toes.
I'd savor your every scent.
Inhale you with greedy breath.
Make up for every moment spent.
That we will never spend.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I cannot and would never even attempt to understand a mothers loss. But I can empathise as a father who has also lost. Cry You to Life was heartbreakingly honest.