The power and poetry of words

I am not in any way qualified to speak on poetry. I have written some, who hasn't? I am qualified on the dirty little secret that words, all words, have power. Fear, shame, unspeakable words, they are present in our minds, our souls, always.

Mental illness, Satan, incest, rape, murder, poverty, homelessness, pollution, poverty, violence, war, politics, rot, decay, death, cancer, slavery, bigotry, racism, addiction, the list is long. The list of words that cause us to flinch, and back away, is endless.

I am more than the words I write here. I am a soul, encased in a body, a frail being, vulnerable. I am also powerful. I am more than just some soul, I am part of something bigger, a universe, God. He is with me, on this journey, and I have faith that it is for some purpose that I am up, writing this, when I should be getting rest.

I have had a feeling, the past few days that something is not right. My son Zack has not contacted me, since December. I have a feeling that something is very very wrong. Just writing that, now, makes me quiver. I am tearing up, and I hope that I am just being irrational. I want to be wrong. I want everything to be status quo, whatever that is for him, and his love, Caitlin.

The power of words, is what I started with, here, on this journey. I am going to leave you with these humble words.

If you wish to know the Divine, know the wind in your face and the warm sun on your hand.  Buddha.

The rest is the journey, I suppose. Whatever happens, I know that I have the strength to survive. I will live to fulfill my destiny, and then I will go on.