Inukshuk
Book of words, “Only in Canada’
Which is a soft dagger, in my heart
Makes tear in my eyes like clouds.
Questions race, with many queries
As if winds, the Chinook and Shemal
Both dry...
Words needle my skin, raise pain, joy
They make me unconscious and drunk.
Words are bones and fossils
Ancient old, scattered and local
To revive and grow or alert, plant love.
Some devils cut with words as if knives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem