The Ghost Of Language Gone

 better to speak no word at all however embroidered

than to let one snowdrop teardrop diamond fall

in an envious room

better to be sealed entombed;

let silence flower endlessly instead

and those who lie in wait to 

stomp to death one earnest phrase

find nothing there to grasp;

the ghost of language gone;

all utterance ceased

then to prolong 

the candle wick extinguished

by those despising light.

rage on;

you will find nothing there.

only the wounded, the incriminating air.

mary angela douglas 30 october 2020