Words
Fame and fortune dance around her
as she continues to work
with not having a minute to spare.
People sacrifice their precious time
merely waiting for her words
For them she is not a Writer
but a Sorceress
who has the power to imbue magic in her words.
Crisp white pages bare themselves in front of her
eager to be stained and filled
Shining words dance on her fingertips
as she weaves them with twists and turns,
Crafting tales of such finery
that might put exotic jewelry to shame.
Though these popular tales are in a way quite strange
They tell neither of faraway lands
nor of people’s chivalry.
What these simple tales do tell
are stories of sorrow and pain
and everything in-between.
But that does not stop the throngs of people
from lining for her magical words
Basking in her glory she hardly worries
as comforting words stand by her side,
And sometimes when she is alone
she quietly holds between her hands
Her only tool
A carved dip pen
An old relic or ancient gift or an heirloom
long forgotten
Still a reminder of the time
that was.
Hunger and poverty surrounds her
as she sits crying in the dusty hut,
People hardly bother to look at her
their time too precious to waste
The pauper struggles as each day pass
and as night begins to consume her
she worries what tomorrow’s sun will bring.
Every night as the morsels evaporate
somewhere at the back of her mind
her gift pleads with her.
Scared, she pushes those thoughts back,
but the truth refuses to budge
As do the fumbling words which tremble
on the tips of her cracked fingers.
Still doubt refuses to leave her alone.
Her sad eyes stare at the withering old parchment
which seems ready to fly
She wonders what value does her words have
without any knowledge acquired.
All she possesses are sorrow and pain
and everything in-between
Hunger threatens to eat her away
She must try, she has to or tomorrow
the sun might not rise for her.
Hands shiver and fear courses through her
As she tightens her grip on her only tool,
A carved dip pen
An old relic or ancient gift or an heirloom
Long forgotten
Will be a remnant of the time
that was.
Jaya V 2019
