POETRY
When a Poem Speaks to Your Soul; Answer with Your Pen
This lovely poem spoke to me day and night, until I finally wrote it down.
Some poems whisper to your soul. Who are you to ignore them, these secrets meant for you? Write them down, these callings. Give them voice and set them free. -Christina M. Ward
There is a voice that doesn’t use words, listen. -Rumi
Whisper (A Poem)
Nothing speaks so loud as a whisper.
Swiftly, the leaves turn up their faces to the wind that plucks them, one by one to dance with the sun.
They drift in a whisper to the ground. Who am I to walk among them?
Your breath, brushing my ear, lips that pull the beating of my heart to the surface, a pulse of me, erupting in a flash of heat.
Intoxicating, your words inside of me.
A delirious coursing through veins and cells and skin, moving me to pen.
Who am I to pretend a poem, a birth, is mine at all to give? Without me, would they not still live?
Hanging, a mere breath, quietly raging in the trees?
The ravine that gathers the creek, inch by watery inch, carries the prophecies of soil mile by mile, veins delivering the song of earth.
So, too, your whispers deliver me. The ravine, by design has no choice but to gather the rain, drop by drop. From the sky, from the soils, from the heavy Autumn-drenched air — a poetic movement towards sea.
Such it is, with me. A poem, from me, to Thee.
I believe that as a poet, I do not necessarily write poetry. Sometimes it writes me. A poem whispers itself to me in bits and pieces and will continue to show itself to me until I honor the voice of the poem, pen it down or type it out, and give it body.
Each poem is its own life and entity and what that brings to the reader is unique to each person. I do not interpret my poems for you but allow you to do that for yourself. What a poem means to me as the writer is wholly different to what the poem brings to your day. I hope this one blessed you in some way.
Thank you for reading