Hungry for Words

When I was a kid,
I used to learn words from a dictionary.
Five each day.

I trailed my tiny fingers through the black ink,
Relishing the consonant and vowels
As my tongue rolled around those invisible delicacies.

In love with a distinct sound so much
That I would say it over and over again.
Until I felt it was a part of me.
And I could conjure it when I was in trouble.
Like a good friend who always shows up
Even if you had a fight.

Sometimes, I would read to my dog.
He slept through most of it.

I will not lie
even though I could
If I tried really hard.
But
the biggest love of my life
Is this language I’m speaking in.

It calms the storms in my heart.
Connects me to people
who have their own stories to tell.
And I listen with every inch of my body.
Just like the voracious child I once was-
Hungry for words.

Looking for new ways to string sentences together.
Paragraphs that make me forget to exhale for a moment.
The depths of someone’s love, grief, or rage.
Fascinated by someone’s mind.
Thinking -‘Wish I could write like that!’
A certain kingship stronger than blood.
A love more enduring than any other love.