Strength

Colourful Imagination

In her fleshy hands

She held a working pen

Even though most of her pens

Produced dry ink on the pages.

She picked out a single pen

To write out the words from earth

As the tears dried on her face.

She heard all the words in her mind

But they were scribbled down on her temples

As she searched for her missing

Notebook on the colourful bookshelf.

It was hard to remember her prayer

For she couldn't even place the feeling

That blindly enraptured her body

Although she knew the name of Jesus.

Her bible had been stolen

Right under her nose so she opened

The Bible app on her broken phone

But the verse just wouldn't load.

She wanted to write the invisible verse

In her blank brain but she could only

Recall a childish wing line though

Her lips hardly knew how to speak it.

The colour beneath her eyelids was grey

As she read from that sad verse

About a home away from earth.

She thought how words could escape

From her sad, empty mind and

Create colour on the books in her shelf

But she never seemed to read them

For words were too grey to contain.

They were like basic striped letters: IBS

Or the fat lump of a C, then D, then F

And how they all seemed to disappear

Because she couldn't see them in the flesh.

But Jesus was a deep purple shade

Of the plums on the mug before her

Sitting on the table where she wrote

For the word had a thickness on her tongue

Jesus sat like a plump plum in her mind;

The sentences of Jesus Christ on earth

Were like juices running down her palms.

She didn't like the stickiness against her pen

So she went away to wash her hands

Before coming back to finish the poem.

She strained to think how to end it

But then words etched themselves down

Clinging in black ink to the page

For her hands knew how to form them

All from her own colourful imagination.