Shelter
Heather is a writer,
-I'm in bed, deep in pain
-in all bones; and muscles.
-Being four in morning, is early…
-therefore, lie, close eyes, can't sleep!
She is on radio and speaks
-of her life, of her books
-not true, mixed true-fantastic.
She is fast, I get it
-yet never can repeat;
-the words that she spits!
Choo-Choo
-I am in train and
-go around, must move on.
In York U, my prof writes tropes
-literature and its norms
-Mecca is on whiteboard.
-I am in my sixties
-classmates mostly teens, twenties!
Change the means, travel
-on plane and in ship
-flashbacks to childhood…
Different then and now
-Today's is "Door to door! "
-On last tour visited a shelter
-met Sayna with others…
- (on Lesmill)
Remember watching the brood then
- (the chicks and mother hen in garden.)
Hen opened wings and let
-the chicks to go under, take shelter
-some hid and some peeked and
-some stayed in open…
Seeing kids in shelter
-like the chicks I observed
-in childhood and old days…
-makes me think:
Refuge!
Displaced!
Shelter-less!
Difference is too much
-mother hen was too kind
-not here, no-one's warm!
-not enough, not as much! ! !
Heather who is writer,
-forces me out of bed
-I forget that have pain
-in my bones and muscles!
She speaks of her life
- "I took the characters as real, "
-with this she, writes true-fantastic.
She is fast, lecturing
-can't ever, I, repeat;
-the words that she spits!
Choo-Choo
-in train go around,
-do so and must move on.
Two Blacks and two whites
-three girls, and one guy
- (he asks of the damage, as price)
-refuged in shelter! Fought parents? ? ?
Hear old General; he talks of Medusa:
"I issued order to slow down…"
-Their supply of bullets had gone down,
-could not fight Taliban…
Life in West is bullshit! ! !
-these pickles live in jars…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem