Inaugural thoughts
Restlessness and angst swirling around like so much
smoke and dust in the breezes of uncertainty
people fretful and worried for uncharted futures.
Darkness and cold, metaphors for the end of times
that seem ever present on the doorstep of a failing
nation confused and fearful of everything.
These are not the earmarks of hope.
These are not the earmarks of dreams.
These are not the earmarks of prayer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem