110,007 poems read

Words—sometimes strangers—sometimes friends
Sometimes comfort—sometimes sorrow
I am surrounded by words—like the colors of eye sight
They are hard to escape—they fill the air and bombard my brain
With messages from a world in which I am not comfortable
But from which there is no escape...except death
I will wake up tomorrow but what about those who won’t?
Plane crash , camcr, car wreck,--we speak to them 
Words of  sorrow, loss and love
Words bind us up as we talk against death
I sit  alone in a quiet space with just breath
Between me and death and  I wonder--

The fig tree by the coy pond is full of ripe figs
They are glowing in the golden setting sun
The birds are delighted and feasting and I am sure a few worms are too
And they have no words—they are just doing their bird and worm and fig thing
But we mourn our fallen not out of awareness that we may be next
But because of a word we call love—when one of us falls
Something in all of us falls—and there is not a word to describe
The empty space left by one who is taken either by tragedy or old age
So with the words that both comfort and trouble, we bind ourselves together
And talk to the universe knowing that some mystery hears our words
Just as the universe hears the fig tree