Pretty
“Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But words will never hurt me.”

Those who sing this brainless phrase
Have only known the words of praise.
Words that are always kind and witty,
Words that sound a lot like pretty.

Words like dashing, kind, and gentle,
These aren’t vile or judgmental.
Words that love and hold you close,
That keep you safe from vicious blows.

It’s amazing that I know these words

Because not one of them have I heard.
Spoken from another’s lips,
But by another’s bones eclipse’d.

The only words I’ve ever known
Are angry, fierce, and cold as stone.
Words like ugly, angry, foul, and hate,
My shoulders sag with their weight.

They pour from someone else’s mouth,
Like water running from a spout.
They hit me with the water’s weight
And I fall away to a sleeping state.

When I awake, the light peeks in,
Brighter than it’s ever been.
I shoo the sleep and try to see-
The branches of a golden tree.

The leaves are letters, the limbs are words,
I feel the breeze, I hear the birds.
They sing to me a savior’s song,
The tune is sweet and the notes are long.

In a burst of light, the words have changed.
The letters danced and re-arranged.
They scrubbed away the tar-black marks
And showered me with sun-lit sparks.

The seeds of love have been sowed,
The words cannot touch me now.
I belong to the world of light,
The words are mine, so now, I write.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But words can never hurt me.”

Terror come and blessed be,
For of their grip, I am free.