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My language is like the

Thud of a djembe drum

Beating my heart on the page.  My words are the long, slow, flow

Of rivers of love,

Winding down to oceans of peace.

My words are mirrors,

You can’t look away –

See the self of yourself in my lines.

My syllables speak silence,

Released from the clasp of praying hands

They heal the pain of the world.


My language is the face of my soul:

It speaks my mind,

It shouts my passion,

It whispers my dreams,

It’s the voice that wakes the world.

Speak with me,