I dig for nothing tonight.
No stars. I cannot find
The constant moon.
I could write about the moon
Which cradles high
In my mind's glass shelf
Of video memory.
But would my words
Trace his dimples accurately?
Could I muse for a mass
Which isn't by me?
Which comes and leaves
And takes my thoughts?
Would it be poetry?
Would it be a Komunyakaa?
I don't believe it would.
No. I have written about the moon.
It has followed me home
Like a floating dream pet
When I was ten. I never named it.
Even then, I knew it could never be mine.
I would dig a look into the sky
To test his faith to me.
Then I would look away
Knowing it proved nothing.
But tonight, I find him missing.
This is why I cage the things
I couldn't risk losing-
My tears. My words.
My embrace.
This is why-
So under a vacant night,
I wouldn't have to dig.
Though you say you dig for nothing, you dig deeply into the things that truly matter. Another fine poem!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You truly convey the mystery of life. This is a very beautiful poem. It mirrors the aesthetic of Japanese and Chinese poetry - the presentation of a series of images, awakening deep feeling and awareness, without useless intellection.