witnessed the world falling
crumbling
in pieces
at a wedding
the glasses tipping
wine spilling
out at sea
guns falling
falling
like poetry
they fall then they’re flying
floating
drifting gently
in an early morning dream
as the world fall
some drop like lead
others gently float away
peacefully
what gets to descend safely?
what has to pay with their life?
suddenly, you’re awkward
your spirit untoward
always pondering the state of the world
slowly twisting
echoing the creams of your aching spirit
like a boiling kettle
a habit like how
each morning
you would turn on the kettle
and make a pot of tea
Source: I have a dream [NF 12:15] – Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm







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