Saturday

When Spirits Dance

Sending words and sending rhyme
Sending message in your time
Making sure that it will flow
Lord, quicken hearts that they would know
That poetry is not just art
Of which my talent has a part
For me, I know that you inspire
Every word you so desire
Because my words are so inept
Except the times you intercept
You send the words for which I grope
You turn disaster into hope
You re-phrase every mundane thought
Of which my human power could not
To me, it's language of the soul
Where fragmentation becomes whole
A moment not of time or chance
But when communing spirits dance

Copyright Mary Jane Gonzales 1998

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