Friends, the chosen family
Of youth, twixt twenty and
Thirty / forty something
The resurrection of those
Ties that bind, around the
Adult hood of fifty + to
Graduation to the Spirit.
There was always a place
To hang and pitch ideas
Or dance with each others
Notions, dreams and opinions
To visualize how great that
Would be, and that was
Everything from a really great
Lay to getting a hot new car
Or making a pile of money
With minimal effort.
When the sleeplessness of
Youth met the nap-takers
In the hood, that half-way
Crisis always looked bigger
Than it felt, felt more
Life-altering than it was.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem