Unheard Words
Am I filthy?
Or unholy
To let my life’s jewel blemish a canvas
So I can show you the pictures of my future seeds.
My Seeds, in the mist of despair.
My Seeds gasping for air.
I even see the seeds of your grandsons and granddaughters
Letting out their tears of sadness,
And drowning out an already sorrowful sea
A sea in which their moans echoes’ out of and into the ears of the past,
It goes so we can understand the pain of which they speak of.
I even have wish of closing my eyes to war,
And opening them up to peace.
I want to be able to taste holy fruits in an Eden that we create and let the nectar drip
down my cheeks,
And let it fall into the earth and create new organisms. So I can tell my children’s that
you can do anything you want, look how my words and saliva created life.
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