No Slow Death

Something arrivedrobbing me of my words,strapping silence for a little while.I couldn’t replace the letters,or adjectives and nounswith melodic syllables.The heart was paralyzed withoutthe beautiful sentencesthat create eloquence.I couldn’t gather them here,nor there,while eyes judgedwhat can’t be felt, or touched,or sensed.I wanted speech to travelfrom the mind,into my heart,and exit onto the pagefull of love,joy,and wonder.Finally, ah!There it isthe release of meonto the page,lines and paragraphsdraping like silk,without the care ofanyone’s feelingsbecause when I writeI don’t die a slow death;I live a sweet life.