with his trembling
hands
a man hands a glass
of water
to his very sick
wife,
he hears her
scream in pain
and holds her
stomach
in agony hoping perhaps
that her
fingers can heal
outside the rain
pours heavily on the
trees
the pavement is now
flooded with
too much water
a tree falls upon
a car
wreckage here and
there
as the wire was cut
and flares
it is cold, but it is still
colder inside
and if cold is sad, it must be
sadder than sad,
old age is unwanted
for those who cannot tolerate
all these agonies
i sometimes ponder
about Oscar who died at the age
of 25, and at this point in time,
i guess Oscar was luckier.
he never saw what i am seeing now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem