Words Poem by Midifo Yearns

Words have become my companion
befriended, avoided, embraced
always enigmatic and pregnant
strange and strangely familiar

Words are my hospital
in which to seek healing
the spa for refreshment
avoidance of pain

Words have become my army
that defends me from wild attack
and protects my sovereignty
albeit a rather shaky one at that

Words have become my prison
where I struggle with the confines of freedom
and seek to break the chains that bind
my heart and keep me captive and alone.

Words are my canteen
where I chew and swallow
and chat and argue
where I somehow love and hate

Words become my piano
on which to hammer out
a broken hearted legacy, a melody of love
or sad tune of misplaced notes
forming music coaxed from simple,
often fragile keyboard

Words can even be my punch bag
where I smash around at will;
where anger outs and things are said
not whispered but in shouts.

Words, I must admit,
have sometimes been my brothel
for illicit encounter and
lustful exuberance that temper
inexplicable longings
cutting through my bowels

Words have become my confessional,
where I whisper and shout
the truth of my life and the grace
of a God who is love

Words are my sanctuary
in which I touch and am touched
by the sacred; words become the place
where silence speaks to my soul

Words, the vehicle of my dreams
where inner voices burst the seams
and life inside takes on its form
and wakes it does instead of dorm

Words have become my church
where I light a candle,
speak a prayer,
read from a great Script
and eat a bread that makes my heart thrill

Words are my place of intimacy
where friendship and integrity
kiss, embrace and consummate
the meaning of life

Words have become my private space
where I think and ponder in the heart
the many mysteries of life that confront
me as I journey through each day

Words are my garden in which
I sow seeds and wait in patient
expectation for the sprouting of new
life and the joy of harvest time

Words have become my library
where wisdom filters through the
musty smell of old and new editions
and bespectacled aunties remind me
of boundaries not to be breached,
yet to be explored

Words are my school
where the thrills of children
fill my ears with laughter
and where I learn to listen for
the simple truths that make of life
a joy unspeakable to behold

Words are my hermitage, a little poustinia,
where I can be alone again, with half
a piano, broken strings, fettered mule, but
a heart that is whole, and a grateful spirit

Words have become that kind of friend
who holds me in embrace, affirms me
with grace, and challenges me to
live a life of self-giving love

Words have become that little rock
at the sea of Galilee, where I can sit alone,
gospel in hand, and have Jesus speak to my heart,
even as the gentle waves wash my feet

Words like a great blender
integrate the many forces
energies and contradictions
of my life into liberating love

And in the midst of words
and the silence between the sounds
I somehow always find peace