His old slippers lay
waiting by the bed,
they will never feel
his feet again,
I wore them a few times
but my feet cried,
I too wait
my whole beings leans in,
and sometimes my body curls up on its side,
there is nowhere to hide
in these rooms his absence
follows me around like a tomb,
how could it be
that slippers could cause such grief?
old slippers that make me weep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I found myself tearing up reading your poem and felt deeply your sadness. The huge little things that daily remind us of their presence in our heart.... the people we loved so much: (