No Words

.

What if I asked you to listen to your soul?

Could you hear her?

       Would her whisper warm a pathway to your

                                heart?

Would she

                sing spring gold,

                hum summer lavender,

                celebrate autumn’s ticker tape parade,

                chant plainsong to your winter’s still quilt?

I say the soul lacks seasons. I say she lives evergreen

in mountain air, is muscled with light, slow-breathes

beneath the ocean.

        I say she speaks without words,

             is heard without ears,

             & felt without hands.

I say no scars mark her skin,

                                   for scars line hearts not souls.

I say the heart catches all arrows, bleeds,      

           seeks soul’s comfort.

The eyes of the soul hold holy light.             

       Her hands know where to touch.

         Her ears hear the heart’s moan.

                                     Her lips heal. 

The mind thinks.

The heart bleeds.

        Only the soul knows the true & ancient music.

Rest in her arms.

Listen to her wordless song.

Let her hands heal.