Her Poem by Tentative Poet
Her
the pale sky cries.
yes, it cries the cry of birds
lost their way,
their direction twisted by
heavy clouds in the path.
thickly the wind whips
their tired wings, chasing
like anger unleashed upon
the unwary.
innocent blood spilled
by ignorance, the seeking
of misery her cross to bear,
the unholy course paved by
dark footprints, each one
a stamp of pain
immeasurable.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 11:01:00 PM # 1.0.0.1119
