it's been a time
we have been writing
grief,
how to write all these
we share no secrets
we mirror
each other's sorrow
somehow we must make a
pact
that next time we should
try something new, - -perhaps joy,
have we forgotten what it is?
we go back to
childhood, in that tiny village
at the tip of this
archipelago, there is a river there
that winds a thousand times before it
reaches the sea,
it is taking as always the path
of least resistance,
we followed it, it did not break
rocks,
filtering itself clean
by those hundred pebbles,
when it arrived at the mouth
of the sea
it was purified, and not content
with its
transparency, it has finally joined
the salinity of the bigger world
all seem to lead to an ocean
where everyone loses its identity,
to be one again
into an anonymity....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem