No one knows the rocks that burden my shoulder,
breaking bones piece by piece.
No one sees my rapid heartbeats,
as they are drowned by head hard thoughts.
No one cares if a knife pokes into my soul,
blade cutting deeper in day in day.
Who would care to understand why this flower doesn't bloom.
Why the sun is clouded by shadows,
why the rains don't revive the green.
Why the pencil doesn't write.
Why the sword and horse left abandoned,
while the hero lays on the bloody earth.
Why the dust covers the memories,
with spiderwebs of silk.
Why the world doesn't wake up,
as everything is dead and gone.
Why the seedling does not sprout,
when hope shines on its path.
So I sit here in my chair,
recording what is the future, present and past.
Yekaterina Bezpalaya
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/without-a-clue/
