it is the guilt
that mothers us all
not to repeat what
we like and later abhor
it is this guilt
that behaves like an
old spinster
teaching a bunch of
kindergartens
that this playful thing
is not that good
at all
when she comes to me
bothering me
i finally decide to
offer it a
cup of my tea
and freed from her
tingling hold
i face her
feeling confident
about myself
stronger this time
about my next
decision
balancing between
this toe and that toe
i walk along this
rope
high above the air
feeling no fear
about falling
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem