Touch: The Journal of Healing



Without Words

    by Chrystal Berche

In the mornings, we didn’t need words.

We just walked

over railroad tracks

down broken sidewalks

Nana dragging the gunmetal-gray cart along.

At the market, we didn’t need words

all the answers were in Nana’s hands

squeezing fruit

examining vegetables

prodding meat.

In the afternoons, we didn’t need words

Shellin’ peas

Shuckin’ corn

Snappin’ beans

clumsy fingers mimic nimble movements.

Nana hummed as she stirred

Clapped as she walked

Lifted her voice in praise

Old gospels and freedom songs

“Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me round.”

I felt the strength of the words

Long before I knew their meaning

Long before I came to know

That it wasn’t just meals we prepared

That she was preparing me for the world ahead

providing the recipe of endurance.

The gathering of three essential ingredients:

heart, mind, and soul

Fuel when the body is ravaged

Sustenance when you doubt the strength to carry on.

There are no words for that kind of love,

no real words for goodbye.

© 2014  Chrystal Berche

+ previously published in Valley Voices Spring 2014

Hard times, troubled times, and the lives of her characters are never easy for Chrystal Berche, but then what life is?  The story is in the struggle, the journey, the triumphs and the falls.  She writes about artists, musicians, loners, drifters, dreamers, hippies, bikers, truckers, hunters and all the other things she knows and loves.  Sometimes she writes urban romance and sometimes its aliens crash landing near a roadside bar.  When she isn’t writing she’s taking pictures, or curled up with a good book and a kitty on her lap.

Copyright © 2015

Touch: The Journal of Healing

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