We are flowers coming back
I have hid like the almost dead
No winter blossoms
Dark tides cleaning the shore
Grief in black and white photography
The common man wrestling with life
With death, we bury the dead we love
Some never come out of these waters
I am there on the edge of spring
Striving to live again
Sometimes I feel I can’t love
We walk the dark streets
I hear the ghost of my brother
All the love that is quiet
Relationships unresolved
My cruel confused words
Idealism dying into anger
Despair with movements
Only spiritual basics work for me
Death has come to my doorstep
Light and darkness fight
War within
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nicely written poem on the internal war. Nicely done!