No words

  

 I’m not a writer. I have no words for this.

Some say survivor; I was not a victim. 

I can’t say that.

Some say a victor. There was no battle, no contest.

 My mouth forms no such syllables.

I lived through it. And I fully lived amidst it. I enjoyed life, stayed present. 

I Loved and felt loved by others: Experienced profound gratitude.  

I healed. I healed my body and my soul beyond reason.

Good health and happiness permeate my being.

From dying to eternal in the blink of an eye.

What are the words for this? My language offers no easy term or turn of phrase, 

when someone asks how I am.

I have no words for this.

I am not a writer. 

But I am.