If art could make me speak
I would turn words to bread
If art could make me heal
I would turn wounds to kisses
Art whispers its secret potent
In my ears
The voice of heart
Sings for the wide sky
Commoners paint their waves
In the sea that washes their plight
I have nights, that blind
until the inner awakening
flutters like a blackbird
that leaves the nest
to learn the language of the sky
And to trust its feathers
before finally perching
and watching the boat of humanity sail
in pauses.
The migratory bird,
spreads news of peace
and says art is like bread
To unite and ease hunger.
