words was shut off from me
they can be so
for tongues not ready
or hold them.
and what a gift that is-
that which might seek to hold you hard.
accountable to it.
words is weapons.
i’ve been a marksman-
surveyed and hunted many.
but i found they make stronger tools
in for my garden.
so i speak to the flowers i got
and whisper to the succulents.
i get close because sometimes they hard of hearing
an’ we tell each other stories
an’ scheme on how to make tea that taste like candy from roots.
an’ we make promises in moonlight
if this be a garden, then let it grow out strong
with deep roots
and greener greens cause i need to remember things.
purple mysteries and little confusion other than what we find to be a decent amount.
an’ benches for fatigue, hair braiding, and small talk.
if this gonna be a garden then let’s make it some place we like to sit.
i hoped those words might bring just as much to it as any water would.
an’ somedays when i listen real close-
and look even closer
i can hear them all, the plants and such, singing-
above and under ground.
they help me remember what language i speak
an’ i find words that was lost.