And so you foundered
your way back towards
the anguished crossroads
And oh that Padre Pio's day
were yet efficaciously here
when the one road and the other
might be simultaneously taken
Then you will be certain
to promptly disown that self
whose lot must needs lead away from her
And the agony is the indecision
and the indecision is the fatal inertia
the inertia of a rived singular self who
may not have his cake and eat it
But is this not an upsurge of herself
right at confluence of your crossroads
bearing your heaving heart in her palm's fragility?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem