By Michele Habel-Coffey


He speaks to me a shibboleth

And I open up my gates

His soulful sound – my sacred song

For a lifetime, I would wait…


Listening from behind my walls

For the music of his prose

Bearing respite from the war

I have so long now known


Our language binds us – kindred

Breathy pauses fill the air

Drawn back into desperate lungs

Burning, naught to spare


Upon solitary letters

A secret message sings

Single syllables of hope

Winds upon the strings


Of an instrument in common

Connected by the notes

Rolling off our lovers tongues

Marking us as being one

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s