Words

Words are swords
or pillows
to rest or scream
With on your quest
they wake your mind
change a moment
Or touch a desperate day

The words you say drift
the ones you don't say
are staining my shirt
as I pull my hair
with the itch
in waiting
patiently for your voice

Speak your truth
open your mouth blindly
to those you love
or your trapped honesty
will cut
the powerful words
where peace is blanketed.

WET GARDENS

Drops of pressure
tip bended leaves
a turn of
rainfall massaging
the curls of nature
walking in the shadows
of raindrops I hear oxygen
breathing from the trees
bugs lick the stones
in the hum
of this sweet damp air
straws of pink light
press the clouds
and at the smell
of silence
lays in the grass.