I make a wrong turn
She is there
I take my jacket off
He is there
I haven’t seen her in twenty years
after only meeting her once
I’ve never met him before
except on the internet.
What cosmic phenomenon is unfolding;
why am I at its crease?
Is it really nature that is sacred;
is it really life that is holy?
Is there such a thing as a wrong turn
-or a right one;
may I take something off
and still have it on?
Is nature sacred; is life holy?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem