This is a poem I wrote fourteen years ago, on a blog I used to keep. I’m inclined to share it again with a few minor edits, because I still like the sentiment. Too many of us spend our words frivolously these days. I’d like to see a movement to restore the sacredness of language.

There are words we pass

To pass the time

And words of civility,

And words, like coins,

That fill the rhyme,

And too many of acrimony.

Such words we spend

Without a thought,

*

Disregarding the ceremony

That occurs each time

We pass a word,

Like bread,

From mouth to ear

and back again.

*

There is a wordspring,

Deep inside, where

Language lingers,

Brooding,

Aching to bond the hearts and minds

Of each sad, solitary human.

So we must treat the sharing of words,

As it should be, as

Communion,

Because in sharing words,

Like bread,

We find near perfect union.