Metin Sahin


nuts are breded in their shells
they swing on their trees
they are chests hidden in nature
a slk worm weaves in her cocoon
and the turns to a butterfly
spoiling the cocoon
it rains from the clouds
with whites snow fall from the sky
which finger does not hurt
when cut
my mother udes to say to her children
blooms the spring flowers
how the trees
return and are covered to greens
resist the last fall flowers
to cold
death knocks at your door at any time
even if you do not expect the visit
we will go to somrwhere else one day
in turn
what and how
we will leave things behind
bad or good
the most of the attendants
in our last funeral prayer
will be the stranger ı know
the ones who acquı ts us from our sins
are the strangers evidently
do not ever die
if it is in your hands
when you die
you are bried immediately
you and your memories
as the days pass
you are forgotten
your memories are faded slowly and slowly

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Poem Edited: Wednesday, December 7, 2011

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