Poetry: For the Words, Are All Around Me
The secret syllables
and words
surround me
in a morning fog
I absorb them through
the places I wonder
ideas I ponder
they flow into my blood
veins
as they spill from my rose
lips
like shameless water
they sweep into me
like the wind behind my bare knees
they whisper into my ears
within the summers breeze
they creep u on me
like a bottle feeling
emerged from being
cloaked deep within
the search for a pen
and paper, feverishly
begins
into the depths of my soul
the intensity
is hard to control
like a wave, the words
tumble over me
overwhelmingly
grainy sands distort
my messages vision
as I struggle to write
how I remembered the piece
would begin
it feels like a rush
of electric
creativity
lightning bolts of
wisdom
jolt through my body
shooting from me
stories of grief, and struggles
things I share to help
others
not to repeat
of loss and love
like a bottled sermon
thrown from above
the words hit me
Copyright © Heather Hill | Year Posted 2010
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