i lost my sleep
over a thought I could not
make my own:
the sun’s antidote changed
the voice of the wind

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I haven’t seen you
but I heard your voice
Is it just me
or is it destiny’s choice?

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when I am sick.. I remember
shapeless figures
my mother’s cool touch
her voice echoes
you are going to be fine…

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The Spell of Silence

In the spell of silence
your voice enters as my own
distinguished by foreign design
I welcome the intrusion
and wonder at the origins
of your spirit travels

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Because she had the fragility of glass,
He made his voice a pillow, his hands a snowflake,
Melting as it touched her face.

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