By Patti Tana
Date: 4 April 2000

NO

I will not speak
when words stick in my throat like bricks,
when all words say love me
love me as I love you.

I will not speak
when I am feeling like a wall of bricks
that runs along the bottom of a hill
where water seeps.

Touching the wall
moss springs green and soft and moist
and silent as the forest after rain
before birds learned to sing.

No, I will not speak
when I would rather touch.

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