It bleeds, it bleeds
as from a wound beneath the skin
it cannot close, it cannot heal
but to be pierced
as a gushing spint it comes out
then as droplets, drips it out,
or to poison turns.
I am dying into
you now
instead of our
garments.
For our Parents poison'd drinks
as children unloved ;
Nature grows not on their graves,
for they exploited it.
It weeps, it weeps
as tears from hearth never reach
the glands in the corner of eye
but to be pierced
is hearth destroyed, lifeless
as a body on the ground
it flows no more.
You're not moving
it is I - whom
is fading out of
existence.
In their footsteps was it cleansed
by lil' flowers then,
to leave no trace of them behind.
The poisons, poison
the mind, senses turn senseless
which elixir, remedy is there
to pierce the time
as old age creeps, slithers as
wrinkles on our skin
but to smile.
I am disappeared
dissolved
in the rhytms of
the stream.
As we bore fruit was it then spread
by moss be covered
as a thousand and one cuts made!
I smiled, we smiled
For ages came and passed for us
as healers did we pass through
and pierced bubbles
the rotten odour turned sweet
for those which followed
in our footsteps.
such was our
poetry
as strains left
of tracks.
As roots into heavenly water
was it then made pure,
and the crown into earth stroke
as deadly as our tears.
In hills, mountains
we left behind a path of needles ;
they learned to make shoes
that it may not pierce
the skin beneath the world tree
for the serpent paths
as threads of it. |