Fickle

words are fickle

they hurt, uplift, 

change lives and perspectives

but when you need

them, really need them

they are gone

as consistent as 

dandelion dust, 

carrying your wishes

and dreams 

away from you

on the wind--

words are weak

tossed and turned

by the many currents

incapable of describing 

the beauty of the sunrise

on the day Death died

or the sweet ache of 

being known for all 

your imperfections

and yet loved completely--

words fail me 

when i need them most

dancing around my 

fingers, avoiding my grasp

the closer i get, the farther

they are, a rainbow 

refusing to share its riches

they taunt and laugh 

but i smile

the words are not 

necessary for what is 

already in my soul