Pierced Words

Listen! The poet’s voice must speak;
A sound alone is not enough,
The world inherit with the meek
Meaning taken, handed, hewn rough.
Scrape from her the fallen remnant
Words like Babel divided out
A dark disconnect from him sent
A rhythm lost, a misplaced route
We see the life in dying grass
The meadow’s battle hid from view
Furious, the red queen’s morass
Her quiet deaths are no less true
But speak, the world says, speak of things
We lost when atoms split in two
Such power, loosened, in her sings
Words the ghost cleansed now accrue
Mine they are! I say, though I’m theirs
The prophet’s glory second-hand
This is his lot, no joy compares
To speak what’s true, let truth command.
Crush your talents, break it, bend it!
Given they were, now give them back.
Be shaped and shape, look to mend it
Perfection glimm’ring in the crack
Bondsmens’ ears were pierced once, and free,
In choice, so pierce your words to me.