The prophetess smiled at me.
She stood barefoot,
On the hot, baked clay,
Pointing down at the cracks,
Made by the sun,
On the surface of the Earth.
And she said,
'This is how the end begins,
This cracks will widen,
And swallow us all up,
My father told me so.'
Then she ran, to a spot up ahead,
And stood deathly still,
As the smoke from the incinerator,
Caressed her tiny body.
The smoke from millions of husks,
That once had held cotton.
And she said,
'This is how it starts,
The great fire will come,
And burn us all to death.
my father told me so.'
And we believed.
8/2/11 Alton Texas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem