Still Poem by Elle Barr
Still
Still in the storm
Not a single move,
Not living,
Maybe resting.
Immobile amidst the strong wind,
Motionless and emotionless,
Just thinking,
Maybe thinking.
Frozen in the hot summer,
Sweating in the cold,
Drowning in the drought,
Inactive yet active.
Slave of indecision,
Master of lifelessness,
Are you fortunate to be not dead,
Or unfortunate to be alive?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/22/2024 8:57:34 AM # 1.0.0.1119
