in these restless hours
one wakes up to share what
innately is also
restless...
thoughts are wanderers
in a caravan of camels
under the full moon amidst
the coldness of dawns...
the desert howls like a fox
asking for names
i whisper my name to the wind
so all the sands of time may know
that i have allowed
to be counted in
in these restless hours
we are too, part of the pack of
those restless creatures
see our shadows under the fullness of the
moon treading the desert sands of time
the foxes, the bats, the snakes,
the cockroaches, the gnats
and the nits and lice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem