Going blind
still trembles touched by mordant powers
which tend to pulverize a dainty grin
and paint a smirk and knock to cower...
Revived convulsions in the heart upraise,
awed by its own determination.
A sense is made; the sense outlives the taste
of sight’s demise. Precipitations
are counting feared droplets of dismays.
While taking crushing course, a body
absorbs the truth like punches on a face
till countenance becomes a wadi.
The pain is dull. While swapping blush with pale,
the silence grows, commits a treason.
A letter seen transcribed and felt in Braille,
as wadis... reaching rainy season.
May 16, 2007
Iouri Lazirko
Copyright ©2007 Iouri Lazirko
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