Bamboo groves sing the symphony of winds
in their crackling I hear my heart
on the red lone summer road.

The village woman passes with her cow
she has no time for poetry
yet her radiance fills me to beg life
more..

O Death be a while away
I've taken root on this land.

I will stumble over my words
while I stumble
into you.
Show me where you are wicked,
and I will show you
mine.
Let me taste the pitch black
ink as it drips from
your lips,
and you can read to me
the thoughts you hold
close.
Take me to the place within
where you are not pulled
into a thousand directions,
that one place where
you are still,
that one place where
you are home.

The sea is resting now
after a long day
gnawing at the edge
churning in deep hollows
ever so slowly eroding
this peaceful coast

Sand is the issue
of this marriage
sea and sky
combining to
make the land large
in its retreat

A handful of sand
to the winds
my life
to these tides

talk not to me
of the reality that media shoot
at me from morn to evening

not of catastrophes or cruelties
humans inflict upon each other
with never-ending venom

speak to me of the delight
a newborn gives its parents

the joy and pride a child feels
mastering its first challenging task

the sudden sparkle in the eye
of refugees when finally they have reached safety

the wordless joy when two have found each other
and for a time need nobody else

speak to me
of all the moments in our daily life
that make us proud to be human