A Poem Can Roar

By Adam J. Pearson

A poem can roar
What a line of prose cannot.

It reaches into feeling
Like a bucket dropping down
A deep, dark well,
To draw forth waters
That nourish.

A poem can weave wild threads
Into tapestries of beauty,
Or strike in a flash
And electrify
In lightning.

A poem can tie together
Striking images in verse,
Like a noose to a neck.

It can equally show us
Trees of hatred watered by fire
In the paradise of anger
And razor blades of love
That glide like a feather
And talk in a whisper.

In a poem,
I can say what, beyond it,
I cannot.

It gives voice to my silence,
Bursts secret walls within me,
And sparks words to flow like
Current through a wire.

These words only want to fuel growth,
Like the water from the well,
They only yearn to speak fear into power,
To shatter barriers,
And heal the wounds that we all hide.

Some poems whisper in your ears
Like lovers under satin sheets
With warm breaths and soft lips
That graze your ears
Like silk.

Others bellow
Like mourning fathers
Cursing the heavens
For the loss of sons
To the heavy rain
Of gunfire.

This is a poem:
Feeling in letters,
Not a description,
But an experience,
Not an account,
But a transformation.


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