Roar

And my own I can keep.

Sound from my throat

Vibrates out through my lips.

Chest full, strong lungs.

What do I want to say?

 

Everything.

 

Everything, but words

Cannot begin to convey it.

Words that Stay

How often do you think about the words you use?

Do you say certain words because you like the clarity, the directness

of the ideas they present?

How about the way they roll off your tongue,

or force your mouth to contort

into wild shapes you hope will never be caught

in a photograph?

Do you like words that sound heavy

or soft?

Words that bring in other cultures,

nationalities, tastes, smells,

summer days

and the moments after rain?

Words that hurt more than a blow to the face

or words that comfort

just as much as a friend’s embrace?

How often do you think of the words that are origins of words,

 

The ocean of language

is never still,

it swirls and eddies

just as much as the world

that gives them life.

Creature Unknown

The hand on my face presses down, sliding its fingers into my gills. No oxygen, no screaming, I suppose it thinks. My mouth proves otherwise. I have teeth, I have lungs, I have a voice that belts out an alert to all around me. There is a creature here wanting to crush you. It’s got me. Stay back, else it will get you, too.