My words the result
of the times I've lived
not a classroom exercise
My feelings all paid
with the blood of my fears
not a rambling diatribe
My trail has been lined
with each tear and misstep
to mark the way ahead
My life a memory
telling a tale
—whose direction my soul has led
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November,2018)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem