The Sorrowing Poem by Leslie Philibert
The Sorrowing
The stairs ascending, the blinding window sinks to my feet.
Wax and dust in the summer heat,
then a sudden coolness as if in a church.
Standing lost and undecided I hear children,
so I hide in the shadows of a wood-floored landing.
Petals strewn before me wilting,
like the stanzas of a forgotten poem.
Time to withdraw gracefully -
walking proudly no longer I must submit to retribution.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 1:08:28 AM # 1.0.0.1119
