In the spirit of Cousteau,
carrying bags and all-
4 degrees Fahrenheit plus wind chill
but 6 degrees of separation,
is what detaches us from your humanity.
Caesura,
breathe God’s child.
We all God’s children,
yet the saved pass by
on this cold night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hakeem, the 6 degrees of separation expressed as a poetic pause; indeed we all pass by saved on this cold night! A powerful poem for thinkers... Rgds, Ivan