All a poem needs is just a word
A word to spark a flame in the heart of the listener
Who also wishes to be heard
That word could be blue
The word could be hunger
The word could be baby or daisy or dove
Any word that begs, listen
Please listen with love
And when the poem loses all words and becomes a dance or a sound
Then a new question arises
How can I express, how can I ground,
the story of my heart, not in a word, but in a single gesture or noise?
A potent minimal frame that speaks the stories of mythical creatures and questionings of the most curious corners of the soul
Or simply joy
Can you capture the breath of the wind and the pulse of a tree in the bend of your finger?
Can you feel the vibrations of tectonic plates and dormant volcanoes rumbling in the arch of your foot?
Can you feel the love of all past lovers who held you, kissed you, as you laughed and cried – can you feel it travel in your blood along your arm and find its way to show itself to the world, to whoever may listen, to whoever may witness, in the turn of your wrist and the bend of your spine?
And as your own stories find their way from the deepest parts of you into fruition and expression on the surface, can you open your body like an empty stick of bamboo and allow the life that you witness to flow also through you?
Mirror to witness, your message becomes clear. All life and it’s becoming, expressed in the twitch of an ear.