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Words.

 

Words

can be so utilitarian.

 

Scrawled

reminders

on Post-its,

tapped

to-do’s

in Memo,

tiny type

on

included

Directions

(folded like origami)

(and about as easy to duplicate)

densely

pecked

and purposefully

convoluted

onto

Contracts

–which excessive footnotes and addendums

tickle anxiety bones–

(and mean to)

but words!

 

Because words!

 

Words

are also the stuff

of Poetry.

of Love.

of Every Story that ever was and

of God,

(if you believe In The Beginning of that story, anyway)

and in these distinctions

–everything beautiful

arises.

 

Lyrics

to caress notes,

Sonnets

to entrance

souls,

Happily-Ever-Afters

to pull wool

over

jaded gaze,

–that the heard might continue–

words can be

the Rembrandt

of Your Story

–daubing the Dream–

or words can

paint the house in which you dwell

–careless of crown moldings

and missing primer–

 

the decision

tips

your pen.

 

A conduit of the heart.

About Charron's Chatter

I bring to you an arrow, whole, Use it, or break it, But if you choose to take it --Know-- With it also, I will go. © Karen Robiscoe @1992

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