I Love The Language Of Poetry

Seen today, a lone sparrow in the courtyard of my heart,

A lone star, all that I can see in the night sky.

A lone word, all that I pine for,

A lone world, all that I have.

I want you to communicate with me in any language.

May we talk the way blades of grass talk while sprouting,

May we talk the way flowers talk while pedaling?

I can't sleep the way the national highway sleeps,

Letting all the trucks run over.

At best, I may allow some stray dogs to scratch my skin while fighting for a few bones.

But no to wounds that ooze blood and always cry for beautiful eyes!

I love the language of poetry,

The hiss-hiss sound of words

That silently bites my heart.

I love her hood.

I love the language of silence!

I do talk to the tree, her serpentine limbs laden with leaves of hope

And flowers of prayer!

Love the clouds and the way they eclipse the stars,

Love your eyes enveloping my being.

I love the language of darkness,

Those silences that slay me.

I have seen the night crawling towards me,

I have seen stars shouting against me,

I have seen the sky devouring me.

What else can an earth like me do other than shouting aloud?

When silence breaks,

Words too break shackles.

Fences do assemble,

Rivers change course,

Birds of eyes flutter wings,

And a seed germinates, giving birth to seedlings!

And the earth in me writes the poetry of protest against all those gigantic skies eyeing me!