“Still Waters Stirred”
The silence struck like lightning through the vein,
A bolt beneath the temple’s ordered tide—
Yet from the slackened mouth and tethered brain
A pulse of will refused to sink or hide.
O stroke! You thief that halts the tongue mid-song,
You shook but did not shatter. In your rage
I found the fire to grip my breath, grow strong,
And write again upon a stammered page.
For though the body stumbles in the wake,
The spirit learns to dance a slower tune;
In dawnlight now, each step I dare to take
Becomes a psalm against a dark monsoon.