Poetry is a beautiful thing; it’s the rhythm of music beyond
the curve of notes,
the thunder inside the quiet storm that shakes you and wakes
you. Yet much like all beautiful things, in the hands of men or women, it can become
tainted, even ugly. I recall the childish rhyme “sticks and stones…” and I beg
to differ. Though stones and sticks carry the potential of physical harm, words
can be just as damaging emotionally. We are layers of skin with a frame of bones
but beneath it all lives our soul. A damaged soul can have devastating
effects on a seemingly sound body. With that in mind, may I suggest that we who
wield the pen or press the keys or merely muse with lips at ease, pause before
we do for words have power too.D.V.
September 5, 2012.
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