The Japanese tear
Her curved lip struck, shining in late light.
While she was coming to nothing.
The big wave was clothed only in its sound
And the earth's withered bark
Was pushing very strong the life’s water,
While hoarding the days
And keeping the water's life.
Late lily curved over its stricken lips
Taking out at the last sliver of light
The bulk of time
And the whole white in waiting.
It pierced my wood's woven shade,
Lullabied by the late lily,
Planted in the brood of the wave's mystery,
That brood of the late low light
Flaming invisible tongue of flames
With water.
Like those lilies which are still lullabied
Are notched the white ubiquitous crosses
Speaking in the mother earth's tongue
Whitening wood's woven waters
Before crossing the notch
And ascending to Heaven.
They had been raising
On lost waved ways looking so wounded
And their speed was notched with the cross
While they seethed singing their song
For the ruin of time.
They became only voices
Being clothed in their groan
Impressing the withered bark
Of their exhausted mother earth
Losing their water of life
In water
For being elsewhere deeply buried,
Maybe in hotness.
Living their last seconds
Like dying
Or maybe eating the grey stones
For becoming grey
Or for becoming stones,
They still keep in our minds
Their heavy weight of groan.
While the pale planet
Is fissuring the wound
Of its stumbling block,
While the pale planet
Is crisping the air in its icy breathes,
And sowing its sorrow in its new seed
Of winds, which blow and down all the grey
From the overcast shadows.
With an eternal starvation of souls
The blackness fills its inside
And pink bleeding clouds
Redden the dreary rain
Waiting the rainbow of hope.
poem by Marieta Maglas
Added by Poetry Lover
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