from Stress

by Mei-Mei Berssenbrugge

I fear one stray word is more powerful than my child’s vitality.

But not speaking can send out huge, mutated thought forms.

It’s foolish to hate a quarrel, forgetting the forces of creativity.
The energy of consciousness and of matter still continue,

absorbing those elements that seemed to me destructive.

The energy of a word is little understood.

Without force, symbol lacks motility.
Context, language, value are terms for a web of patterns within

the attractor field.

Turbulence, emotional upset can increase to a new harmonic.

I don’t force my perceptions upon her to whom I speak.

I don’t speak through the family member as through a telephone.
There’s psychological extension, a projection of each one’s

characteristics, which we use to communicate.
It’s as if I were writing for an immaterial audience, yet I know the

reader exists.
Openings through which words seem to disappear connect my

self I know with you reading, a symbol coming alive.
Then I am acted upon, attuning to force; my desire to be moved
is as strong as desiring peace.
Another’s energy turns my personality out to the material, which

my own emptiness had secured.