ah, the truth blanketed by
cement inside a barrel of anger
and then thickened by the
hideous steel
thrown into the depths
of the murky river
which time could have
easily forgotten as nothing
but just another kind of murder
unresolved
things come out by themselves
and they all tell their stories
not with weeping but with
the pointing finger as to who
the real culprit is
the truth can never be buried
it unfolds itself and bears upon itself
the promise that at the end
its face can be seen
and then justice shall prevail
we shall wait.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem