The confession of the body
Your face seemed calm.
But your calmness was imperfect. Desperate.
Your body was a minute confession:
A tree shivering in a prayer,
Scattering gestures full of silence:
Little dead leaves.
Background: my mother speaks.
Your face seemed calm.
But your calmness was imperfect. Desperate.
Your body was a minute confession:
A tree shivering in a prayer,
Scattering gestures full of silence:
Little dead leaves.
Background: my mother speaks.