Words Movement

I want them to shake me— not to break me, but to stir something deep. To rattle me, gently, from places I’ve let fall asleep. To spring anger—yes— but only where healing begins. To draw tears, like cleansing rain, and decorate the silence with something real again. I want them to leave you wondering, just quietly wanting more. Not confused, but curious— like standing before an unopened door. I want my words to shake you, not to harm— but to hold. To bring you to the floor, only so you rise even more bold. My words should empower you, employ you to want more— more peace, more light, more truth than ever before. To leave you hanging— not lost, but suspended— in a breath, where something new is just about to begin. Because words can move— and I hope mine move you, like kindness in full bloom, like quiet strength in a still room.