Word Stains

My hand is resting heavily on the empty page before me. Five cold fingers wrapped too tightly around the pen in my hand. Momentarily turning it into a dagger as I prepare to carve my thoughts onto the paper, leaving a dark trail of wet ink behind every stroke of the pen.

I stare at the page motionless while listening to the voice of Nathaniel Hawthorne echoing in my mind:

“Words, so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them.”

What a beautiful bouquet of words ..

The sweet scent of which lingers in my mind as I ponder and try to comprehend and appreciate the true meaning and full extent of what this wise man has said.



Whether I am holding a pen in my hand or staring at a blank screen with my fingers hovering in anticipation above the keyboard .. the nature of the words my thoughts give birth to will reflect back at the object in my hand.

Will I use those words as a dagger to afflict pain? Will I use it to draw a cuddly soft blanket to wrap around someone’s weary soul? Will I be holding a plaster to try and mend a broken heart somewhere out there? Will it become a weapon with which I retalliate?

Perhaps, hmmm .. perhaps my words might even leave my hands empty. Open. Able to pull an anonymous pare of eyes out there closer and embrace the person behind them .. because my words might show compassion, understanding, unconditional acceptance, patience, love?

My hand is resting heavily on the still empty page before me.

My fingers are numb, suddenly paralysed by my hunger, desire, yearning for being able to paint with words. To be able to do good with words. Change the world with words. Heal with words. Forgive with words. Make music with words. Love with words.

Turn
Back
Time
With
Words