High night, moon area (A earthquake victims in Japan)
you want late night, family area,
be called in the landscape oblivion.
death cries air pilgrim
pitch shaking under my bed. Today
melt the white auroras,
in the eyes of father absence only.
extend hands to heaven
broken dusty dreams that bleed us and soaked with pain
our look.
Do not see the slide of black teardrop glass
after truth, broken branch? High
sky, fresh flower snatched,
wrist on warm wet chest.
peace Did not fluttering looks? Dry
cloud, man slave and agony. High
sun faded flowers, upset. True haven of light
my solitude. Rossana Arellano
0 comments:
Post a Comment