there is nothing in my head that words can utter
but the heart is crying out with a dying hunger for an attentive ear

in this moment
I let my hand do the talking

shut out the questions,
shut out the confusion,
shut out the insecurity,
shut out...
                            
shut off the filter on every action
that seals the lid on my pressure cooker heart

shut out my mind

my heart does not speak at the speed of thought.
I write because my hands say the deep truths that
come out slow and frail,

it is the turtle that wins the race.