That one covert act of unkindness,
you know the one, he said,
you may think went unnoticed,
but the sound of its detonation,
the mushroom cloud of its repercussions,
the deafening sound of its primal wail,
its echoes throughout the abyss of cruelty,
still reverberate.
There will come a time
when the hurtful words
you served on a plate of nonchalance
will kill you.
My small acts of cruelty, and yours,
attach themselves to the whole of mankind,
like cancer cells
and become eradicable.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sonny, wise words indeed, and a poem that should be read by some of the members who frequent our forum pages.10