Etched as in acid
Undeserved childhood tattoos
Still silently burn

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on December 11, 2017, in Poetry, Senryu and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.

  1. Eloquently written, Ben. This resonates with me – may we all heal.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Excellently written, Ben, but tugs at the heart, too…

    Liked by 1 person

  3. When I travel to Navajo Technical University in January and see all the tattoo-laden students and some of the faculty too, I promise not to think of this poem.

    Liked by 1 person

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