Nameless Street

translation of "Ανώνυμη Οδός " 

My mistakes: wounds
and my fears: common silences.

In a narrow street
full of cunning shadows,
I am who I was meant to be.
Whole.

A storm was born
in the light of morning
and a kind of hope
scratches the palm.

My words fall to the ground
and grow into light.

My mistakes: poems.
My fears: saints.

from the collection
“Herons of Death”
titled “Nameless Street”