Read in, write out, repeat

The words you read — take breaths with spilled ink

reading you on a page

breathing you in like the air that is in need

let these lights enter and untangle the hidden language of a mothers tongue

once again, ancestors are willed and busy whispering sweet sounds of forgotten synonyms — dripping honey through ears as they drum along a rhythm

as if you have been holding your breath whilst waiting to exhale — now you breathe again, spilling words

breathing light into the dark witnessing them bleed and water each other — like the writers reader, symbiotic friends for life

one syllable at a time, ripening like fruit before your eyes

you taste words from these trees of life on the tip of your tongue, laced with grace and hoping to become a holy writ

you keep bleeding and watering, evolving until the end