The unspoken emotions

Either this sorrowful night is long,

or my poem is interminable.

This dreadful night does not end,

Nor do my poem cease.

How deep are these lakes?

no one has measured them.

But they do not dwell up in the rains,

Nor dry up in the droughts.

There is something wrong with

my bones,

Set them on fire and do not scorch.

Sigh burns them.

Grief scorches them.

These are injuries of love,

What cure my friend, is possible?

A touch hurts,

A salve hurts,

The fair night belongs to the moon,

to whom does a dark night belong.

A moon does not hide among Stars,

Nor can the stars concealed in the moon.

(Artwork by Robin Tolbert)