Words That Cut and Heal

They won’t abandon you in a ditch somewhere to die,
Nor can they scry your next move and fly away
Before you get to kick back at the injustice,
Peeling away at your soul and striking on hot iron on a slab
Meant to slice you like medium-well, blackened, bloody steak,
And the chef with that sharp knife winks at your wicked misfortune
As he hands you the smallest portion.

They won’t get stuck in your throat unless you’ve already been choked
By deathly incubus letting you slip away on auto-record in your life,
Not realizing the strife around you, so they take advantage
And plague you with pieces of gristle to wedge in between your incisors
Like splinters, none the wiser, jammed in deep and unknowing,
Infecting, festering, blowing, pestering and growing
With seeds of evil they’re sowing.

No, words won’t do that. They choose not to. Yet you are the wordsmith.
The one molding their shapes, shifting spaces and creating cuts
That can burn and lacerate, but only as long as they’re used
Like Chinese stars across the sky to inflict their pain and disdain
With little pricks to bleed and turn you into a deadened voodoo doll
Whispering wails on the other end of a frightened phone call.

What words will do is cry in sorrow for tomorrow —
Because we live in a world where all use them in this way.
That’s not the way they’re meant to be used.
Better yet, they’re not meant to ever be abused.
So best drop the hammer and knife now and stay —
Stay at peace and let words delightfully bring what they may.