below dim skies our spirits draw tight
and the guilt weighing heavily
on a man's heart is mine
we have not been sons of light
with our chins to our chests
strings of these years bind my hands
and I have a child's mind in thinking
that I could ever not be me
so build a shell to rest in
and make the best of it now
heavy handed becoming heavy hearted
because my past is my present
embraced and healing are helping hands
but heavy eyes slide closed to seeing
strength-less arms moved by a strength-less mind
what I've given leaves me without power
to make right of senseless wrongs
we have not been children of honor
with our heads hung so low
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem