Wheat Ears-Selected Poems


In the tempest’s wrath

I longed for

a glimmer of hope

in the heat of July

I seek the tanned

smooth body of the woman

and the north wind said

find your path

in your ancestors footsteps

lean and reverently lift

the marble over their gravesite

to feel their warmth

and I asked the southwest wind

where is my sunshine

and it said

it hides

in your heart


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