When the shopping lists
Outnumber the poems
And the bills outdo the letters...
When you find yourself
amidst your cluttered days
and your burden both
wears you out and weighs you down...
When the mum's in charge
and her past 'she
used to be' - evasive.
When you stop hearing each other,
stop seeing each other...
When backs touch one another
More often than lips and hips...
When bodies stop craving for each other,
souls apart...
When?
When the hell did that happen?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dehumanized we are. This powerful poem warns us well, No poetry, no love, is Hell.