They were left like calves
To graze their masters’ grass
In the pastures of material heaven
The food chain link hoofed and tattooed
They were left like milestones to a distant Rome
As all the roads were closing down
In sad princes’ towers after motes were crashed
Down into a crocodile water
They were left to death dance
Bones rattling to dust
With skin wrapped in macabre hides
Spirit sealed chained they talked to their skulls
They were left to tomb words unspoken graves
An epitaph wordle in Earth tagged names
©Miroslava Odalovic
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem