A poem is a photograph
a time capsule
an old man’s saying
a question

It is what cures us
what understands us
what explains us
what shows us

the past and the future
the good and the bad
the wrongs and the rights
the truth and the dishonesty

it helps to show
to shout
to smile
to cry

it is my grandmother’s hands
that massaged my back
whenever I was sick in bed
whenever I was in need of sleep

it is my parents’ strength
that stopped the possible wrongs in my life
the power that kept them smiling
when I had my first car accident

a poem is hundred worlds that I create
with the orders that I give
to the pen that writes
the words like length and height

each word helps the other
to hold the paper
and each paper on the other
to create my stairs toward heaven

Photo of Flickr user Charles Stanford