A hand

Vladimir Huber > Poems > A hand

Teaneck, NJ, Oct. 25, 1972

A hand

By Vladimir Huber

Decay, loose dog and sad trees
Everything pointing down
even the smile of a child

The surrounding is quiet, you would think of peace
but it’s quietness from solitude, when you let things go
‘cause the sun doesn’t shine anymore
It’s long time forgotten and it’s trying to call you
but it doesn’t seem to be heard

I try to light a candle, but the wind is very strong
It almost goes out
Now it’s only a sparkle
and from sparkles was born the fire