Bandaging the wrist of the hand
that cries foul plays mind-games
look at me it says with a white
flag emblazoned – you can’t miss
this face of vulnerability or fail
to see the pain nobly etched
bravery’s for fools tamed to
the taciturn god of reticence
Faced with plague-like aches
contumacious in persistence
do you choose silent obedience
or vicarious praise in sympathy
from insecure watchers who
jealously self-flagellate
© 31 January 2010, I. D. Carswell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem