Precious coverlets folded neatly, placed aside on bedsheets
draped with memories.
Sequestered in cells of uncomfortable selection, siphoning
reason from the well of wisdom, creating the possibilities
of everlasting transformation.
Struggling with the infinite details of makeshift
problems, dropping heavily to knees of grace, afraid to stay
and face the ugliness of lying people.
Turning rapidly from the mask of unreal derision, crawling
through port holes of successive unruly discipline.
Rising on clouds of imaginative realms, sitting by a pool of
water, watching the reflection of who I am, shimmer and
disappear from sight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem