Words

My currency is words-

pinpricks of soul shaped and formed

to be melded with time,

and it matters how we spend them-

where we lend them,

and where we give them

willingly or reluctantly.

See words are more than letters,

an alphabet re-ordered,

they can create or dismantle borders,

build bridges or walls

between places and people alike.

They’re more than phonics

that ring in your ear

words you heard

or thought you did writ small or big,

which slid from your ears, your eyes

and seize your mind, and maybe deeper.

Keepers of ideas,

engineers of fear and comfort:

They can make a furnace of your palms,

a hummingbird of your heart,

a glacier trailed down your back.

They’re the shivers and sweats

of hopes and regrets

where silence could have reigned for better or worse.

They can ignite or extinguish your every sense-

tie your tongue and your mind

until the knotted intertwining leaves you silent-

unable to oscillate or vibrate coherently.

They’re the authors of moments,

the tellers of ages, they shape our heres and nows

beyond chapters and pages.

They can make your heart soar,

faster and harder than you thought it could

and they can stop it, too.

They’re what I’m stood here with,

alone on this page stage,

they float across this cavernous papery room to you.

And maybe they oscillate and strike a chord with you,

or maybe not,

but my currency is words-

pinpricks of soul

shaped and formed and melded with time,

and it matters how we spend them.

Advertisements

P.S.

 

Page-leaving nib hovers-

the hesitation of an afterthought

replete with intentions,

trapped and bound in ink

stops and sinks your pen to the

sheet once more.

But an afterthought

isn’t necessarily a reflection

of less importance,

a deflection or performance

disjointed and detracting

from all that you’ve said before.

By afterthought I mean something more-

maybe even

the thing you wanted to

say all along

but have only just summoned the courage

to write now that the space is

nearly gone.

The post scriptum is the preface

which took time and bravery

to develop and emerge-

the place where all of the ‘almosts’

of previous lines combine, gain momentum

until you use ‘P.S’ to ‘mention’

the point of each and every stacked

letter and word which preceded:

teetering under the weight of meaning unheeded.

‘I miss you’.

Thoughts distilled, post scriptum.

13150761_1759378620965249_2033127840_n.jpg