I keep crying
On your grave, my brother,
Since you left me,
I turned into a bunch of healing herbs,
Whose formulas are sacred.
I am the pain and its alleviation,
Longevity and poisoning,
Which depends on how much you take.
Emerald and malachite-green
Inspire me to look further
Into the future of the mankind.
The song of healing flowers
Is tender and relaxing,
Light and deep.
© Maryna Tchianova
© A tribute to Airmed, a Gaelic goddess of medicine and healing herbs
Airmed
© Copyright: Марина Чиянова, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121081304025
Свидетельство о публикации №121081304025
Рецензии