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.