Words

All round me are words, and words and words,
They grow on me like leaves, they never
Seem to stop their slow growing
From within… But I tell myself, words
Are a nuisance, beware of them, they
Can be so many things, a
Chasm where running feet must pause, to
Look, a sea with paralyzing waves,
A blast of burning air or,
A knife most willing to cut your best

Friend’s throat… Words are a nuisance, but
They grow on me like leaves on a tree,
They never seem to stop their coming,
From a silence, somewhere deep within…

Kamala Das, India 1934–2009