in that pit of sorrow
shall one descend
until his head is seen
no more
what is seen is the plain
a desert if you know
the sun is cruel
as seen on the skulls of goats
and men
but one cannot just descend
forever into the
grief that is so overwhelming
that is not the end
of this matter for soon one who is scarred & scared
with so much sadness
learns so carefully and the heart
that is broken soon shall
heal the strings that snapped
from its guitar body
and one's trembling fingers can still
figure music what just two strings
or even one
down to that grave of darkness
where shadows speak
one day an eye looks for a leak
of light
and finding an opening
wings its way
to the world of light where it
once lived
for it shall remember and rise
once again
as spirit as scent of calmness
and gentleness
the scars listen and the broken limbs
reshape what the spirits
reinvent: you see, you must have
felt it, because
it happens and we are still here
all willing
to speak and listen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Powerful, moving words Ric, a pleasure to read and imagine, thanks