The gifts we receive,
Organ donors are in town,
Life’s on holiday.
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More stories from George Zelinski and writers in Poets and other communities.
No Word Comes Near Enough
The English language has its limits. I learned this when I became a student of the Bible and looked up the Greek and Hebrew definitions behind the Scriptures I loved. Some languages have so much more depth and power than the one I use to convey my thoughts. But, even so, I don't think any word could ever come close to describing this void and pain I am journeying through. I don't know how to swim through its murky waters.
By Shirley Belk4 days ago in Poets
mycelial
If I were a mushroom and you were a tree I would have found you already — threaded myself through the dark to where your roots reach down and wove myself in. They see my fruit. Beautiful enough to want, too dangerous to hold. But you would know what lives beneath — the web of me, moving through every dark and patient inch between us. I would bring you what the deep holds. You would give me light made solid. Neither of us would need a word for it — the forest never has. When you find me you won’t feel the finding, only that you always knew where your roots were going.
By Mina Carey2 days ago in Poets
Comments (1)
This is a unique take on this challenge. I like it a lot. I'm Bill. ⚡💙⚡