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mom poem

le montagne sono gente silenziosa
una penna di acciaio
come esso
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
morbido come la base nella terra
il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio
ho visto con gli occhi aperti
che cosa io devono voi
la neve bisbiglia circa me
tre anni fa oggi
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
tristi sono che conoscono non l'amore
come io aiuti alla destra il mondo che sta andando male

 



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