When Language Is Ripped From My Lips Poem by Gert Strydom
When Language Is Ripped From My Lips
When language is ripped from my lips,
when words
are loosing their meaning
and cannot roar anymore
like the gathering storm clouds
filled with thunder,
when a cup of coffee or tea
says much more
to restore peace and tranquillity
than the fabric of words
and a tear, can be wiped away
by a embrace
in a kind of selfless grace,
then I wonder at the magic of love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/10/2024 6:49:05 PM # 1.0.0.1119
