Words Poem by Shirani Rajapakse

Words are like raindrops.
They fall. Single and
Sublime upon the earth,
The shores and the
Stream that
Gurgles and splutters and
Tries to
Make sense.
Words join together in
Sentences of streams,
Rivers, overflowing, flowing
And flowing in roads connected,
Disconnected, passing each
Other,
Only to be joined, connected
And go on
And on.
Words flow calm and tepid,
Smooth and serene
Or hot and roaring, thundering
And screeching.
Gnashing themselves on
The rocks and dead
Foliage.
Words are holy—
The scriptures of religion.
They are the canon that tell the
Pope what to do.
Almighty, all powerful they are
More powerful than
God himself.
Words are the creator—
They made God.
They made everything possible.
They have the power to kill or
Maim, to love or hate, to admire or
Insult. Words. Soft, romantic and
Lustful. Harsh, bitter,
Revengeful.
Words hurt. Words cure.
They are the surgeon's
Tools. They cut and chop,
Disengage and defuse.
They bisect, dissect and
Resurrect.
Words explode more potent
Than bombs.
They can take away or
Legitimize a life. Prop you up or
Bring you down and
Turn you round and round.
Words—I salute you.