much of it
are markings of
life
milestone and milestones
of nothing
mistaken sometimes
as forms of confession
rather than mirrors
about what was seen before
which nobody is telling
because in reality these
are all harsher than true
than truth,
sometimes we speak
in order not to be understood
because that is what life
really is
more of what we have not
understood but just felt
in between those sought
clarities are those foggy
afternoons where we stop
because we cannot see beyond
words are maps leading us
to nowhere
which we use simply because
we have no choice
we savor the silence
we nod we make handshakes
to the future that meets
us without a promise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful poem on the uncertainty of the future.