Poetry Cicada

This day I was so angry
Poised to tear a hole in the sky
But mother's voice was in the cicada
Speaking from the left
To father on the right
The magpie was my uncle
The foliage was my friend
And later when the frogs pipe up
The song continues merrily
"There is no end to sorrow
But the sorrow
That is temporary"
Paradox
In paraphrase
Words of little meaning
A gentle hand reminds me
It is me
It is you

 

[Peyton Stafford]

Yes, that is me as the poem says. Thank you.