I wish i could tell,
even if i did i doubt if it would dwell.
With a heavy heart,
scared like a piece of art.
The molder knows, the clay not, how to mend,
mend and put it to an end.
To bring in new light,
to bring in new might.
For the womb that bore does not understand,
nor the hands that i thought could withstand.
Waves crash over,
over and again when i thought the worse was over.
I bear and erupt,
just again to subside.
With a heavy heart, wish i could tell,
foe within these walls i reside.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem