Come morning I battle with flight or fright
The start of righting wrongs,
The splatter among these trees
And fields that have been driven passed up
In search of more than sugarcanes
I still feel the butterflies
How lithe things seemed when they came
Then I asked them to leave
After they gave me stingy gifts outside their breed
The gathering together of dead leaves
I forgot my broom
Yet I fold my sleeves
And slowly hands work
To pile up heaps of hidden things
Too many and much to burn
A task that needs to be done
For the cleansing is by fire
And a flame transformed makes way for an orchard of pretty things
New nectar for bees that bring forth more than honey
A smile to welcome back the birds
I can now withstand their tune
and the buzzing no longer scares me
I await the butterflies again
Land, soothe and sleep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful train of thoughts, well articulated, nice encapsulated and insightfully penned with conviction. A lovely poem indeed. Thanks for sharing. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.
Thanks for your kind comment.