Wandering wonderments,
sometimes lost
sometimes awonder,
meandering but purposive,
seeking what may have been lost -
something unremembered but recoverable surely
where home is to be found.
Questioning questing
I cannot escape this forward-going time
which marks my bones and skin and self in mind,
though tricksy memory
would have me loop and swirl
in present pasts flavored with surprise
sometimes.
Home-certainty thins
as I grow old.
Yet water flows, I must remember,
trembles a Brownian motion in the stillest places
and heated, floats free,
being of spirit
though water still.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem