A lyrical poem
One can’t force a poem
to cross over the soul
and spell its magic.
One must wait for the scent,
the swirl,
the incantations of spirits.
Such as the sun’s queries,
a dense fog’s veil,
dewdrops which speak
in tongues of flora and fauna.
One can’t force a poem
to trickle…
I merged with Nature
I paused by the kitchen window
to catch my breath
and hold my heart.
There, on the top of a faded fence
rested a small brown sparrow.
Her feathers fluttered
knitting swirls of softness
in the steel gray air.
Her calmness was fitting
for me to catch a glimpse
inside…
Let’s say this over and over until we believe it
Those touching moments
witnessed by raindrops
reciting the words
you are worthy
you are appreciated
you are lovely
life is your blooming
your shape
the color of your eyes
your hair
the color of your skin
I see you
I hear you
you are loved
and respected
imagine us saying…
