the road is long
and cumbersome
bump up and down
between sorrel
and white bushes
to your straight
back -
you tread
sure on flat
brown slate
where a scorpion
might hide
your feet
dent the soil
and along the way
you look back
to see if I'm on
track even now
between dark
and dew
past the borehole
to the fresh
water tank
where the calendula
flower blooms
out of nothing
the rope between
you and me
is frayed
and less white
with nips
where knots have been
but the voice
of your hands
wears a sheep
and healing herbs
grows on your tongue
the light in your
loin spreads
cleaner rays
just for me
and like God
you forgave
me again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem