God Is Word (Sonnet #215) Poem by Tina Baaklini

Poetry writing resembles meditation,
It's a sacred ritual, a trance.
Words waltz in our mind, in adoration
Then die on paper after their last dance.

But God is Word; how can a word ever die!
Words are meant to inspire, to elevate,
Our prayers can soar high till the seventh sky
Be carried by angels and change our fate.

Thus, ask me not love what my heart will write
For I give him the rein, to say, convey
His true love, sweet devotion and dreams in white
Then words sprout at my sight as tulips in May.

Poetry writing uses words as tools
Yet, words impose their will upon me — They rule.

Copyright ©️ Tina Rizk