Rather a wanky piece on language.

Words,
The DNA of stories,
The genes of speeches,
Chromosomes of known history;

Growing into belief,
Carrying instinct,
Birthing Nations;

Sometimes grand and conquering, other times banal and functional,
Always alive;

Words have grown into Slavers, and liberators, wielding whips or swords;
They have been slaves and burden beasts; will-broke and mule-tacked to carry a warning against disobedience, or phobias cured by a simple purchase;

They have survived a eugenics of commerce, and politics, to emphasize difference
And hide similarity;

Big bold words have shouted themselves hoarse; bellowing their once proud names, Liberty, Justice, Morality, bits in mouths and unintelligible,
While calmer cousins Reason, Humility and Patience, wait and learn, studying family history;

Words create minds that can travel time, break with physics, being every place and thing at once,
Or corral themselves’ into a pen of binary logic,
A life of ultimatums,
If not right then left,
1 then 0
A constant belligerent courtship of
“It’s me or him”
(but what if she chooses neither?)

Words have evolved to describe themselves,
Their masters’ narcissism contagious;

Words have been used to clone thoughts, industrialize conversation, and tailor verbal uniforms in which to hide true intentions;

They have been harnessed to deify massacre, and downsize divinity;

And to turn the family of the Names of God against each other, in a semantic civil war;

But for all these creatures that words have become,
One tiny sentence,
Easily overlooked,
Survives all conflicts, and lays claim to all possible potential:
 I AM.


Christopher Walters