I have written a lot recently
about the cruelty I am becoming
the loss of the soft
the wilted beast inside me
yearning only for smoke and rain and crashing waves
what is left still growing inside me
asks if it can take a moment to talk of what it yearns for:
a finished chapter of my book
a beautiful piano with clean notes
the ability to play it well
a good school that I can somehow afford
a decent therapist to make sense of it all
someone to love my mother
and some time for her to rest
to have all my questions answered
to say sorry and to hear it
to love
to be loved
to be soft again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem