In April
she came home from the city
brightly clad in flower power
bubbling with tales of life larger
than any movie screen could hold
Shared music from Velvet Underground
showed us teeny packets with exotic names
taught us to fly without wings
Yes we treasured her we did
but feared her freedom
the night she proclaimed
'I can't dance in such a small space'
Her new friends didn't know
about her circuits of sadness
and in less than a year
paid to deliver her home
too guilty or wrecked or shamed
to come and release the doves
We three tried to comfort her mother
oh yes, we would shovel the sidewalk
make sure she got to appointments
Of course,
we had to "earn a living", didn't we
protect the country, finish school
tumble toward tomorrow
And on Sunday mornings after church
Jo Ann's mother sits in her tiny kitchen
staring through the empty living room
to the snow covered walk outside
waiting for sunfall
waiting for Jo Ann
resting not so far away
in such a small space
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem