I am battered
In this place
Sitting
On a canyon
Watching the torrents
Of wind and water
Running my course for me
I am the artist's canvass
The slime of the paint
And the strokes of the brushes-
My daily doses of bitter pills.
In this friendship
My friend holds firmly
At the hilt and
I at the edges
Of a double edged sword
And I am a victim
A prey to my neighbour.
I have woken up
From the torture of my slumber
Watching myself
Washing myself
With the water beneath
And the air above
Giving me a fresh breath.
My friend and l
Wrapped in a dilemma
Of a surefooted friendship
Swaying,
Tottering
And turning
Into a fall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem