fist

When it broke you
and you splintered

you turned into words
involuntarily

your story
solid, honest, profound
rang in all of us, reverberating

i fell into silence, more than once

your poetry was tears
your melody cloaked in blood
each line a scar
each word the worth of gold

even responses to them sprang from the body.


So now i pick up a pen
and this--

some, like us, write

few, like you, just are.