Even love can lose its way,
stumble in the dark,
reach for something solid
only to grasp the air.
Even love can speak too soon,
or not at all,
letting silence grow
where warmth once lived.
Even love can break what it swore to hold,
forget the promises whispered at dawn,
mistake fear for freedom,
mistake distance for peace.
But love, though flawed,
finds its way back-
soft hands, quiet apologies,
the courage to try again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem