Published in inScribe, issue 1
Gift
I gave you
Olive oil
Green and bitter
When I would have given you
The marigolds
Carpeting the grove
The moon-bright snow
On the mountains
The constellations
That I never learn
The wind that blows
My voice away.
I gave you
This poem
When I would have given you
The anchor that you lack
On the wild sea
Of existence.
I gave you
Olive oil
Green and bitter
When I would have given you
The marigolds
Carpeting the grove
The moon-bright snow
On the mountains
The constellations
That I never learn
The wind that blows
My voice away.
I gave you
This poem
When I would have given you
The anchor that you lack
On the wild sea
Of existence.
