The River

A river, Running strong through the plains,
diverged into streams.
Would the, seemingly, many
Do the job of one?
Or would their strengths wither in the wasteland?

Maybe Mahmoud Darwish can explain me better than I can express myself:
“We have one dream: to find
A dream that used to carry us
Like a star carries the dead.”

1 comment:

Isis Nedloni said...

To day my mind was a river too:
War as red rivers of blood, with dark tired eyes who dared to look at the burned bottom.And the frightening earth shaked while the stinking bombs cut open wounds of bursting gabs in the mourning earth.
Murder and thousand years of loss who could not breeze thru the fat heavy blankets of death without any form of greeve leaving black tracks behind.
You take good care of yourself and never stop writing!
Isis Nedloni