This is another fourteen line poem…
The best way I know to show my love
is to write the words down, to capture their meaning
allowing them to gently tumble from my fingertips
dance upon my brow and wage war with my inner thoughts.
I was never open as a child, I was a victim of circumstance –
raising your voice, speaking out of turn, or just speaking in general, was looked down upon.
I miss the long conversations I could have held, the questions I could have asked
I too miss the silent pauses, the ruminating of thoughts and the sharing of my soul.
Is this why I ache to write words down – that I writhe at the thought of silence?
What boldness lingers beneath my tongue that forces its winding way to speech?
When I had the choice, I learned to speak, and even before that, I learned to write the words.
This is where I found my strength and where I learned to never let those words fail me.
I learned to let them speak loudly and boldly – I learned to let them fall fiercely with intent
and as my soul sought understanding of why others weep, I too learned to weep in empathy with words.
© Sumyanna 2017
Beautiful image courtesy of Pixabay.com