Tamara Willems

a pocket full of stars…

I carry words in my pocket 
like love and 
like wonder and  
find it quite comforting to 
always know, exactly 

where to find them 

and like gratitude,  
now that one slips into my palm 
with a smooth silkiness that always feels as if it was meant 
to stay on my skin 
and delicious, that’s one I know well too 
but there are, other words in there as well 
and days when I am sure  
which one I have drawn, without even looking 
a rough, sort of abrasive feel to its surface 
and colours I can tell just by touch 
are not the softness of pastels 
but rather a darker shade of grey 
or a fierce rusty red 
words like anxiety, anxiousness 
sometimes uncertain, inhospitable 
brutish and 
days I think to just crumple them up  
and toss them away 
like a wrapper in the street 
wonder about their biodegradability 
what the worms might turn them  

somehow though, as bit of a collector 
it just wouldn’t feel right 
to throw some of them away, you know 
sure I’d always feel like something  

so, I just keep filling it up 
my pocket full of words 
add in a few more sparkly ones 
like gorgeous and 
try to keep track of the important ones 
like notice, ordinary 
gentleness and  
inquisitive, courageous, honest and  
I try to shuffle them up, 
and turn them over 
from time to time, make them feel a bit 
familiar in my hand
reassure myself of the ones that matter 
then, when those prickly ones 
reappear (as they always manage to do) 
I just keep my hand in my pocket 
hold them for a while, no need to shove them down 
or throw then out 
I run them through my fingers, see if I can’t 
smooth off a bit of the rough 
make those sharper ones feel more  

clemency ♥

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