The Wordist
by Sain Sucha
Every night
When he reached his workshop
He locked all the doors and windows
And then went straight to his word-bushes
– Lexicono secretum
And there they were:
Soft words, hard words, edged and rugged words
Words that heal and words that harm
Sweet words, bitter words, sour and acrid words
sharp and noxious words
Then
He plucked a handful of those words
Picked away all the hard, edged and nasty words
From the soft and warm words
he shaped lullabies and chants
Afterwards
He took a handful from the middle
Chose mellow, pretty and fragrant words
Paired them and threaded them upon a love-string
and created sonnets
At times
Blew in painful memories and rancid thoughts
Then the sharp words formed the shaft
While he laid the toxic words on the tip
and produced laments and elegies
But
When the inner light came after dark spells
With happy, joyful and glowing words
Waltzing, jumping and dancing words
he fashioned hymns and ballads
And then
As the night opened its arms to the dawn
He put back all the remaining words
Hid his word-bushes and went to the Poem Square
with his night-fresh produce
© Sain Sucha