Soundless Words
My words are
most profound
when they fall
without sound.
Voiceless they
fall in drips
of burnt offerings
sliding along
brass candlesticks.
Stilled wax
which cools as soon
as it makes contact
upon living flesh
but memories remain
of the sudden sting.
Yet I do not speak
all these vowels
and consonants
are writ upon
dandelion seeds
blowing in the wind.
And they will grow
where they may land
into towers of
resistance.
The echoes are
something meant
to be felt within
the soul not
heard externally.
So beware
for my words
may vibrate
against your bones.