Love may go unrequited, but it always rises from the ashes….
Each week The Sunday Whirl invites writers to write a poem or short prose using some or all of the “Wordle’s” 12 words. This week it is:
There Is No Word That I Can Speak
There is no word that I can speak,
Nor claim that I can make,
To thread the loose ends of this love.
Bear witness to heartache.
There is no grace, not brief nor rare,
Nor root which will bestow,
That which I long for from your heart,
Which cannot give, nor grow.
Here I stand before you emptied.
No hungers left to feed.
No erotic urges racing,
Nor pulsing heat to heed.
But love will not stop me from breathing;
Nor embered seed from rising, seething.