The Japanese Tear Poem by Marieta Maglas

The wave had a curved lip struck,
Shining in late light
While it was coming to nothing.
Being clothed only in its sound
To dance its macabre dance
On the earth's withered bark,
It started to destroy life.
While hoarding their last days,
People could feel the effects of radiation on them.

They were like lost lilies
Curved over their stricken lips
To take their last sliver of light,
The vast bulk of the time
And the whole whiteness in waiting.
Some of them while being pierced by
The wood's woven shades
Were singing lullabies about the late lilies
In autumn.
After that, they disappeared
In the wave's mystery
And in that late low light
Flaming invisible tongues of flames
With water.


In some lullabies,
There were notched
some white ubiquitous crosses.
Those people started to speak
In Mother Earth's unique tongue
While whitening wood's woven waters
Before crossing the notch
And ascending to Heaven.


They had been floating
On the wave while looking so wounded
And our memories were notched
with their crosses.



They became the only voices
Being clothed in their groan
Impressing the withered bark
Of the exhausted Mother Earth
Losing the water of life
In the water.


Others lived their last seconds
To disappear in the gray stones
Still keeping in their minds
The heavy weight of their groans.

The pale planet
Was fissuring the wound
Of her stumbling block,
The pale planet
Was crisping the air in her icy breathes
To sow its sorrow in its new seed
Of winds.

With an eternal starvation of souls,
The blackness filled its inside.
Some pink bleeding clouds
Reddened the dreary rain
Waiting for the rainbow of hope.

Poem by Marieta Maglas

Variant

With its gracefully arched crest,
the wave glimmered in the fading light
as it approached an inevitable stillness.
It was draped solely in its sound,
performing a haunting dance
upon the earth's parched surface,
beginning to unravel
the fabric of life.

As people clung to their dwindling days,
they sensed the creeping effects of radiation
enveloping them.

They resembled forlorn lilies,
bent over their wounded lips,
grasping for the last remnants of light,
the weight of time pressing down upon them,
and the stark whiteness of what lay ahead.

Some, caught in the intricate shadows of the trees,
sang lullabies about
the late-blooming lilies of autumn.
Then, they vanished into the enigma of the wave,
swallowed by the dim light,
where invisible tongues of flame
flickered amidst the water.

In the landscape,
white crosses stood out,
marking a presence that was everywhere.
The people began to communicate
in the distinct language of Mother Earth,
their voices mingling with
the flowing waters of the forest
as they prepared to cross
the threshold and rise to the heavens.

They drifted on the waves,
their expressions reflecting deep wounds,
while our memories
were etched with their crosses.

Their voices became the sole sound,
wrapped in their sorrow,
leaving an imprint
on the weary bark of Mother Earth,
who was losing the essence of life
within her waters.

Others faced their final moments,
vanishing into the gray stones,
yet their minds remained burdened
by the weight of their lamentations.


The pale planet was cracking open
the wound of its struggles,
exhaling icy breaths that chilled the air,
sowing its grief into the winds of change.

An insatiable eater of souls,
the darkness engulfed them and
exuded its core.
Some soft, bleeding clouds tinged
the dreary rain with shades of red,
while waiting for the promise of
a hopeful rainbow.

Poem by Marieta Maglas