This water is like time slipping through my fingers.
Things that once were - no more - shall never be again.
Life lives in silence and sound, smiles and tears, lingers
in petals that find themselves drifting in the rain.
It lives in blossoms of the secret and arcane.
This time is like wind over black shadows of stone,
wasted in pursuit of dreams that can never be,
remembering faces, places, wingtips, and bone,
soaring for a moment but never truly free.
It is starlight and moonlight, tinged twilight in me.
This wind is a tocsin of unfettered degrees,
a songbird's farewell over a snow-covered grave
or the moon's silvered hair in a spindle of trees
tumbling softly silent as tears in a wave.
It whispers like words for the embattled and brave.
This water is life, and I'm a daughter of rain.
Secrets unspoken are in the riverbed's depth.
Each glimmer of happiness, each steel blade of pain
is a plaintive echo in the white skull of death.
I absorb all things into my body and breath.
The morning rises in her shawl of heron blue,
floating memoirs across the river in white mist.
With branches in her hair and roots within her shoe,
she is a gypsy muse with flowers on her wrist,
skirting softly as lovers' whispers in a tryst.
I am fortified on the edge of evergreen.
The earth, water, and sky are mingled in my vein.
Time will tell the story of a great river queen
who dived beneath the sparkle of sweetest refrain
and rose on wings of clouds with a daughter of rain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem