Leather straps old and worn
From long past lives
Who sat and scratched oak arms
While in your last embrace.
Ending life in blackness
Without warning.
A tear might fall
Or a cry unheard never leave
A parched, burnt throat
As current courses through a body
Dancing in silence.
The smell of burning flesh;
Life lingering in moments
Before death reaches out
To those who sit and watch
Another mother’s son die
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem