Silence is golden, so the old tomes say,
But absence of words leaves voids, not fondness,
Within things left unsaid there need be a way,
Of telling between hatred or kindness.
Sans what is said whole suppositions rein,
Imagination runs wild without guide,
And worst is assumed, what leads most to pain.
The rawness of heart left nowhere to hide.
The dankest of cells of any prison,
Is shackled and locked with unspoken keys.
The darkest of days is kept from the sun,
When one word from the right one would release.
In contrast, a word, a single bon mot,
Can hold the greatest of gifts in its power.
It can release a memory long forgot.
It can rally the troops in the last hour.
A word to the wise they say is the key,
To unleash the best within those who know,
And words can be kind and loving and free,
And passionate, strong as tellings will show.
So keep them not bound and shackled and mute,
But let them cut through to the chase and see,
That the right word, rightly said is astute,
To filling the part that language should be.

tags: poetry  

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