You loosen the grip
and let go the bank.
After throwing itself on the
burning pyre, the phoenix
has failed. It will―
not rise from the ashes.
An agonizing script
unfolds. In a visceral moment,
I was scared. Life, till natural death.
What do I do now? Words
do not help. Stop doing anything?
A void becomes a voice.
You become whole.
Living precariously, thinking
becomes a tree. The roots
will feed the heart.
A songbird reminds me.
Time to salute the dawn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem