i feel a feverish pulsation <br />pass through my veins <br />as i look at each word <br />uttered or unuttered <br />placed in the cup of my palm <br /> <br />bound by time, the <br />words disintegrate <br />and each letter <br />slips and slides <br />into a timeless space <br />mostly never to return… <br /> <br />i crack under the weight <br />of the silence they leave behind <br /> <br />but <br />the ones that return <br />to the warmth of my palm <br />are drained of the pulsating <br />passion and boomerang to <br />attack me with the <br />ferocity of a wounded lion <br /> <br />filled with compassion at <br />their helpless act of defense <br />i hug the poor rag-doll letters <br />weary after a futile journey… <br /> <br />i fold these letters in compassion <br />and i shelter them <br />on my soft lap <br />…the wounded-wing letters <br />fallen midflight to a cruel arrow <br /> <br />17sep2009 <br />15.29hrs<br /><br />indira babbellapati<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/letters-15/
