Who gave you comfort when you cried out in pain?
When you thought you were dying, abandoned, alone,
To face the inferno- the scars still remain.
Who held you tenderly? Who took you home?
Have the years doctored kindly since wounds cut so deep?
When anguish was blinding, the aching was real;
It's wreckage unalterable -- a gift you must keep.
Still morning brings daylight; hope will ease the ordeal.
You spoke of it cooly, voice distant and strong.
Time brings acceptance, surrender, release.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem