We strive for control, through words, worlds, bodies
cutting through insecurities, devious to a fault
pressure whirling endless inside our collective psyche
hunted into submissive positions.
Our connection to self, ripped to pieces
as a moment of truth interrupts our façade.
When we pretend to navigate the universe
down, crashing down, we will fall
reminding us of our mortality, our fragility -
it hurts hard doesn't it?
Days too short, nights too long,
our hearts traded to peace for an affirmation of our loss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem