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.
