<i>To the memory of my mother</i>
And now she has over her head brown clouds of roots
a slim lily of salt on the temples beads of sand
while she sails on the bottle of a boat through foaming nebulas
A mile beyond us where the river turns
visible-invisible as the light on a wave
truly she isn’t different–abandoned like all of us.
(Zbigniew Herbert)
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Based on Topics: Light Poems, Memory PoemsBased on Keywords: nebulas, visible-invisible