Words
Tell me how many words will be enough, how many books to hold them, how many shelves to hold the books, and houses for them all. How many stories, tell me how many selves to cram into my own to understand at last what I must do, Lord, to be saved, to rise again—or better, not to fall. Tell me the words—I’ll carve them on my hand, trace them from the books I’ve hoarded, craved, onto my skin to make me whole again, to make this fractured, shattered self all whole, and purify my heart, my mind, my soul and make me worthy, as I’ve never been. Tell me the words. The only word is love.
