This week at Houghton, the community was blessed with a visit from renowned Palestinian-American poet Naomi Shihab Nye. During a time of question and answer with Nye, a profound question was raised: how does language feel about the abuse of words? This issue began a stream of wonderings in my own mind, and I was almost immediately invested in creating a reactionary poem. I would like to credit Naomi Shihab Nye for this inspiration.
These poor Words. I pity them,
as they're manipulated against their wills.
They're launched, shot, and flung across border lines,
allowed far less value than dollar bills.
Such a precious gift we've been given:
the ability to write, whisper, and speak.
Yet we dare misuse the tools of language,
and use words to push down the hurting when they're already weak.
Words cannot apologize
for the wretched ways they're used.
Or for the pain they inflict- the bruises they leave-
on the bodies and souls of the abused.
Unless loosed from the heart of one
treasuring both language and man-
these words cause pain as they're forced to wreak havoc,
they innocently follow our every command.
By exploiting them to hurt, kill, lie, and destroy,
we inflict the same fate on the words that we use.
Soon they'll fade away and we'll call them extinct,
unless our words life and love produce.
