The problem is that I cannot speak
Even though I am tossed over seas
Like any old branch ending up on an unknown beach…
Neglected sticks
I am sure that the dearest people 
Are living now their biggest fears
While I try to speak
While I try to collect my scattered sharp portions
But I cut my palm
The blood gushes
Then the sorrow leaks
I keep gathering myself and go
vanishing or to the gusty peaks!