In front of my house,
A red brick wall stands witness
To my rising desires;
Overtime
It has not grown in height,
It has no graffiti painted on it,
No question asked either,
Almost an unwanted construct
That blocks my view.
I cannot see my world reshape
Itself,
It does not part the wind
That blows my way,
My desires stay unruffled
Gathering dust.
Indeed my nerves are taut,
There is a tightness building up in my chest
It does not allow me to breathe
Freely,
I gaze at the sky
Only to envy its spread and openness.
I could have grown wings to fly
Like I give to my thoughts
That leap and race.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem