Life's journeys: Language, culture, communication

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Words – an affair

They come at you unleashed and disembodied,
dark feathers, beaks like birds of prey,
wings flapping, slapping, threshing…
An endless onslaught of nightfall and gloom.

But then, as the squall calms (and it will, if you let it),
a frail one will stand out – so
brightly colored in its precious evanescence, 
filtering in straight to your inner sanctum.

And you’ll let it alight on your flower – 
glamorous iridescent ephemerid,
you’ll bathe it in the whitest of your eye,
you’ll cup your hands and welcome it inside 
to nestle and be cradled there for good.

You’ll keep it warm with your heartbeat and breath,
you’ll let it wallow in your sadness – beauty 
as yet unspoken and unseen,
you’ll let it trickle its seductive relish 
into your ear and get

so otherworldly high on its chalice of rapture,
you’ll fill your greedy mouth with it, 
roll it around for ages on your tongue 
like kids with candied cherries and,
strangled by mellifluence, you’ll try not to choke up
as it flows down into your place of pleasure

where you’ll make savage love to it 
like the articulate animal that you are,
you’ll suckle it and suck its marrow out,
you’ll venerate and crucify it, too,
you’ll weep and you’ll nurture
its wounded memory like anguished mothers do

and then, able to bear it no more, you’ll recreate it,
you’ll spit it out at others – Here, drink!

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