Wordeath

The words I feel
are pressed into my skin
like red hot iron
Branded upon
my arm, my shoulder
my throat
my tongue
fenced around my lungs
Every feeling
is shredded through a comb
of thoughts and facts
and I am a tree
with these shredded leaves
fluttering in the wind
but my roots are deep
In the earth
and my branches
are way up high
and my thoughts are silent
and I open my throat
but no words are there
Slowly I’m finding myself
in a wordless world
with only feelings
twisting feelings
in my gut
and I feel full
As though I have
all the food
I’ll ever need
in my stomach
and I know
I’ve found
myself
In the silent
tangible gullies
of being
who I am.
P.L.Rao
17th Feb. 2009