wrestling shreds of shared hope
I once tried to end it
but it remains there somehow
thereafter I never believed in killing it...
none, but I (the fake figure in faith-holding crowds)
alone kept my sectets, it was said,
and I never question it.
I had secrets, I have them now
and they have none, they say!
'the stick-figures of your beliefs will scatter
just in one flash of my doubtless doubt'
I used to boast
now I keep mum.
I am a believer now
without abondoning my secrets.
they never questioned me since then
nor did I.
one day morning
-just a miracle-
they left their selves and
mixing with me with all my secrets of disbelief.
their stick figures had been wiped away
some huge secret wave had emerged
from the secrets of big bosom of
their faithful sea.
a sea change it was
I was happy and proud on my secrets
Fukushima wailed with all its nuclear breath
I found drops of sea water on the shore of my eyes...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem