The Power of the Word

He lay silent, wordless
trapped in a body of pain
no movement possible
no hope of recovery.

Outside the trees sang their arias
conducted by the breeze
it was a painting of life
his eyes rested on the light.
She sat beside him stroking his hand
passing the touch of life with every stroke
as she read poetry the soft words
familiar rhythms entered his ears

brought healing peace through this sense
as the day slipped into evening’s song
the poems became prayers.

© Carolyn O’Connell


I am a freelance writer, poet, content editor, and blogger. I also manage "The BeZine" and its associated activities and The Poet by Day, an info hub for writers meant to encourage good but lesser-known poets, women and minority poets, outsider artists, and artists just finding their voices in maturity. The Poet by Day is dedicated to supporting freedom of artistic expression and human rights. Email for permissions, commissions, or assignments.

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