What Will We Do When Words Come To Die?

What Will We Do When Words Come To Die?

There have always been poets, playwrights, and authors

who sit soundlessly and stare at a blank page before them

wondering how they will start a sonnet about two lovers,

a play of a tragic death,

or a novel about a perilous journey.

As the hours dwindle away and all hope of pursuing crumbles,

we seize an idea in a moment of insight.

The words flow from a pen and create an entire world

upon an object that could tear with a simple sweep of the hand

or fly away upon the turbulent wind.

We protect our treasure with pens and swords,

right down to the last punctuation

with our only impetus being to not let our art be struck down by the illiterate.

The illiterate, whom do not admire the unique scribbles

that decorates a plain white napkin,

which holds the idea of a realm of wizards, castles, and adventure.

The illiterate, whom call for the demise of dying words

that lingers in the minds of readers of classical novels,

not even realizing that these words are life.

Craftfully structured strokes of the hand create these benevolent letters

that slide from a baby’s mouth to form a syllable;

they are upon the documents that decide the fate of a nation,

they are in the speech between a husband and wife,

and upon the cover of an unopened world!

These sonnets,

these plays,

and these stories

surround us in a blanket of protection.

Protection from the unknown that lurks in the dark corridors of our minds,

from having to witness words being hung by a noose,

and even from the dreaded writers’ block.