Ellie belfiglio

When I hear this sound that awakens me, intimidating its way into my cloistered night, I write…




Shadows are created from words that are untold,

As spirits pour out from souls with mold!

Into the ocean, rivers ooze!

They have no remorse for leaving blues;

Or no fear for where they may end;

Or trepidation if they find a friend.

Like the current of waves, they spread;

Like a bridge, where souls and hearts evade.

They meet in a circle and bond-

With one another in a pattern with no sound.

In the intricacies of communication way-

To reach across the gap to pray!

Feelings are exchanged, fingers touch;

Thoughts connect in tradition’s such!

Like elders, stories are told;

And passed on to younger spirits, the bold!

With their imagination straining, so visible-

To envision the next passing phrase, so notable!

We speak to them, yes, our word-

That are told, cut like sword;

And becomes shadows like raindrop;

Or even thousand drop of diamonds in a cup;

Or a sea, unknown!

Unknown to others as the rainbow is shown!

The forgotten stories become-

But the feelings remain calm-

With us for our lifetime!

As words become shadows of our rhyme!! …