I’ve begun to trust the truth of blindness
In the colorless recesses where life does not dwell
Where hungry words drip and gather
In the needing echoes that pool in her eyes
The shapeless things that blink at me in the
Darkness of my weeping bedroom,
Early coffins from behind the curtain where
Skeletons bloom only to sink again without protest
The murdered ancestors of when we
Were teenagers, the yet formed glass glowing
Like a wound before an audience facing away
To where an unrecognizable man fades likes a
Memory cast out in the rain, a flawed life
Cast back into the chaos of God’s forge, seen
Just briefly by the woman who bore it and
Wept beneath the petrified spheres until forgotten.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wow that was very powerful...i feel that, to dwell n darkness and never come out....hiding.~hazel