By Tracey Lee Bates Words
These words write themselves. Carried on the wind, they land within my soul
and place themselves in. Words that move, they have weight.
I can feel the heaviness that they create.
These words that flow so effortlessly, they’re notwritten by me, but written through me.
A vessel, a scribe I may be, a chosen bearer they have choose me.
To speak their words, but without sound. Let the words speak for they will speak loud.
Not just of you but of you and I.
Let them touch all who can hear, with their heart not with their ears.
But if these words should not make a sound, stir up their emotion you have not failed.
For they lack the knowledge to listen without sound.
The Bohemian Home Journal 