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,