In the wake of the funeral
Comes the disposal of goods
In a scale of one to ten
Which items did he cherish?
In a scale of one to ten
Who is going to cherish them now?
In the absence of will
To make a clean sweep of the past
An image, not wanted, lingers
A thistle curled over
Clenched in a black fist
A ringing phone
Calls in the night unanswered
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Calls of death are unanswered on the bed of funeral. But within deep sorrow still we accept the truth of life. Very amazing sharing! ...10