Like Zen in her old age,
she moves as calm water
within the slow metabolism
of ancient stones and giant redwoods.
She toils like the slow rutting
of running water through rocks.
With finger to wrist,
she feels the tide ebb and flow within her pulse,
And within the ice age of an eye blink
she lives through the millennia
moving at the pace
of the slow creep of continents
as she steps back into history.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely poem. enjoyed it very much. Thanks for sharing.