Without Words

Without words
this silence cleanses me,
strips me to my nakedness
in the cool, new summer rain.
The wind is still
with only the song of birds
and the low-throated gulping
of the frogs to drift with.

Without words
and the sound
of your voice to comfort me
I must go within.
I seek relief
in my own skin
and the touch
of my warm and eager fingers
to find the truth—
answers to the questions
of my birth.

Without words
the birds sing for me
and carry music
to your window
with no effort.

These winged messengers
simply open their mouths
and the words of the loving universe
gather the language
we have carefully crafted
and return to trace the letters
of an alphabet
our souls know
by heart
with their feathered faces
looking joyfully toward the sky.