Aged Mirrors (65) Poem by Raquel Angel Nagler
Aged Mirrors (65)
It's late in our soul.
We know it is life,
Not death,
That leads us to our abysses.
Slowly, gradually
We learn how to wash our rage
With the water of a tear.
Evening made of land.
We don't know
What ports, what seas
Are still our own.
- -
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
Wednesday, June 10, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: spiritual
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8/2/2025 10:30:38 PM # 1.0.0
