To You Above All Poem by Lisa Nickle

Could you write your fingers bloody
and would you want to try.
If only so you could have page upon page
to splatter your walls
to break the silence of them
and keep the books on your shelves company.

It would be the grandest of spectacles I think.
If the curly haired boy
who loved a blue eyed girl more than Zelda
married her in a small town church
and found a home just for them,
would he let her break the silence?
Make their house a haven (for sound) for quiet sound.
Would he restrict her hand to a cage of paper,
or would he let her write LOVE in many flavors
all over objects to remind him why he IS,
why he works so hard
and why he should stay.

And in the greatest of dreamscapes,
he is there writing too,
on the very floor
they stand on WANTED, ADORED, PRECIOUS TREASURE
so that when her chin sags low
and her eyes lack the strength to look at the walls,
she can be resurrected.
She will see at her feet
in the simplest writing,
the words of Love himself.
A reminder that her value is defined by those words
and far more by the hand that penned them.
He wrote them to serve her if the time should come that he cant.
If he should fade or cease to speak
she would still have those words
to be Inspired.