There is something untrue about your words,
About how they feel.
There is something that makes me feel foolish when I listen to them,
As if all the wonderful things they are exist in the haze of a memory,
As if they do not really exist, and I am merely dreaming them.
They leave a hint of pleasure in my ears
Then quickly become ethereal and quietly disappear.
They are words with soft edges and abstract meanings,
Moist words that are intangible,
Bittersweet nothings.
Words that now seem empty, spent,
Words made to be enjoyed from a distance,
Not to be held, not be leaned against.
They sound like they have been said before,
They are stale,
They have been used many times,
to spread falsehoods and spin tall tales.
And now however eloquently you put them,
They cannot escape their past,
They are rocks with smooth edges thrown very gently
But I,
I am still glass.
Read – A Place of Hope – A poem by Josh Pampam, Nigeria
This poem was published in the December 2021 Edition of the WSA Magazine
