Unspoken Word
November 28, 2021


I want to say thank you,
but to whom?
Who is the one I want to thank,
the one for whom I was born
or should I say born through,
the source of it all,
the center of the wheel,
the hub.
Who is it, this one,
this holy, ever present one?
Do you know, my friend?
Do you know
the space between each breath,
the healer of your broken heart,
the ancient one
who is
gracious even in death,
your parents gone
or going
heroes, lovers, friends,
and all those unremembered words
whispered slowly in the dark,
the best of you
driftwood on the far shore of arrival,
stunned by all of this
coming and going,
this silence,
this laughter,
these tears,
operatic in your cells,
being made love to
by this very moment,
nothing else to do,
nowhere to go,
nothing to prove,
each atom a standing ovation before God,
your heart's hieroglyphics
still unspoken.

More poetry here

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at November 28, 2021 10:05 AM

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“I have nothing to say, I am saying it, and that is poetry.”
— John Cage

Welcome to my new blog — brief ruminations on what it is that moves me (and maybe YOU, too). If any of my poems inspire you, please forward them to friends. Good muse travels fast. Or could, with your help.

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