(Poetry in progress)
the pigeon lost a partner
they were picking peas or
whatever in the street
- the Lord does get them fed
through his providence -
it is our naughty hands
that hold a different tale
my brother downed two wings
that had since flew and hovered
a sea of red, a choppy self
that refuses to die down
a storm did brew - as she or he -
i think it is a he - waited over the
tip of the roof for the other half -
two more wings to make life complete
was it one hour - such a long wait
before he flew away with a sky of emptiness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely write, I enjoyed the read.