If a picture is worth a thousand words

A poem is worth a thousand pictures 

A thousand realities lie in carefully crafted lines

To some, the word alone brings feelings of peace

To others, it is an aching reminder of a hole they can't fill

I have learned to fill the hole with poetry

 

The way the action of death can be crippling and freeing

Both strong emotions felt from the same word

That is a power that lies in figurative language

When you can see the body being lowered while 

At the same time, the spirit is being lifted 

I have learned to paint this image with poetry

 

When your body feels like a bubbling cauldron 

And terrifying words threaten to rip you at the seams

You put that pen to paper and write

You spill the blood of the monsters in your head 

And use it to chain them to the page

I have learned to leash them all with poetry 

 

And when the poet takes her final breath 

And her fingertips no longer fly on keys

Her inner demons, passions, and emotions remain

Forever carved into trees 

Words forever floating on the breeze

I have learned to live forever with poetry