The Words That Plant the Seeds

I don’t want to be the writer of ordinary words, weak and flaccid words,

I despise impotent art that lacks power, I wage an endless war,

Against frail and meaningless expression, tame and hollow speech, watered down words,

That lack the wine of potency. Within my own mind I hunt them like rats,

I cut them down at the stock, expose and extinguish the root, I murder all half measures,

I want to write the words that break down the walls, break each fortress,

Each monument, each plinth and obelisk that stands upright in the hearts,

Of those who hate and oppress, those who persecute and tyrannize, suppress and subdue,

Like ice creeping into the cracks of rocks, finding purchase in hearts and minds,

Expanding and breaking free, smashing old thoughts and dead ideas into dust,

I want to write the words that break the heavy chains and smash the locks,

That open the rusted prison doors of minds and free the starving spirits lying destitute,

I want to write the words that unbind the hands and hearts of those tied so tightly,

The words that slice cleanly the cords that hold you static and stationary,

The words that unravel the knots and loosen the bonds that you may strive again in your own revolution,

I want to write the words that penetrate to the core and bath the spirit in water and clean fire,

The words that burn the crust that covers the soul and washes away the oily film,

I want to write the words that lay your naked spirit bear to the clean sunshine,

The words that unbind the eyes and rip away the veil to reveal with dazzling wonder,

The moon and the stars and the whole pulsing, celestial light of heaven,

I want to write the words that plant the seeds that grow the roots that crack the rocks,

Of hearts and minds and hardened spirits, the roots that find the chinks in the armor of adamant,

The words that heat the blood and rouse the sleeping souls to wild passion and abandon,

I want to write the words that sooth the hearts and bind up the broken and feeble,

The words that feed the hungry and find the lost, strengthen the weary and worried,

I am but one man in a sea of humanity and so I send out my words before me,

Each one a soldier, each an ambassador, a surgeon, a workman, a poet and lover,

I send them not singly or one or two together but rather in storms of rain and lightning,

Watering and striking where they will or making sparks and embers,

That with a little wind, a little tinder may light whole forests on fire,

May change the face of the earth, may grow something greener and brighter from the ashes.

Eric M. Petit