The Footprint of a Silent City on Mother Earth's Body
In the palm of a silent city,
Mother Earth's body seems torn by all anger
with sins never read
by a child's prayer in the corner of an old chapel.
Old roots seem isolated in ancestral lands
the smoke of incense and joss sticks wanders without a spell
then all the stiff leaves
move in search of sharp rocks
as a home to sow all the life that brings life.
Mother's tales seem to die in the embrace of time
which no longer reads the light of the sky
unable to count
how many conversations evaporate with the breeze
to surrender to see a truth?
Oh God, my blood bride
how much longer?
my silent city will no longer die before the sun.
Atambua-NTT, Indonesia, December 2, 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
