BARRIER

by Kaja Kania

They call me the poet

there's 100 words on paper

in my head - 100 thousand.

They call me the artist

I want to write about soul

but can't find it

so write about body in torture.

And how can I describe sunshine to blind

or rustle of blowing wind to deaf?

and whatever I write

won't be understood

or worse

understood completely

differently.