Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm | A time of Age (77)

By Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

 

A time of Age

[ Currently, the poem is a Guest Post on DiosRaw ]

 

A time of Age

a bomb

 

In the wind your cool adage

upon dusk 

the sorrow of your dying light

 

In the specks of falling dust 

your power, your might

 

Into their lungs, they inhaled it

Covet it

In copies and repetitions

They hate you, but you’re their religion

 

The sincerity of a pounding waterfall

The realization at dawn

 

You are the spawn

of the soul

you’re bold

your story told

the stories so old

 

In their reflection

they’ve totally forgotten.