Oh, you come again,
Standing alone at this shore
Throwing prickly stones
One after another
Just to see these ripples, or
Hear this splash,
and enjoy as a child.

But can you feel the wounds
these pricks make?
how they carve in my soul
and bleed?

Surely, NOT.
You can only stand at this shallow beach,
You dare not to jump in these waters.
Your hands deserve thorny stones,
Soft oceans beds and
The treasures beneath, are
Not for you.

What do you think,
These prickly stones are
Buried in my depths;
They are rolling still,
Mutilating this spirit.

I invite you to come daily and
throw these prickly stones,
to make your hands bleed.

© 韩瑞雅 Hán Ruì Yǎ


Published by

韩瑞雅 Han Rui Ya

Loves learning, reading, writing and teaching.

2 thoughts on “shallow”

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