By Jennifer Roig

There are words that I hate
Not just because of what they mean
By definition
But because of what they mean to me

As if all the pain and anguish, sorrow and grief
Was bottled up in one word
Like a black jar of ink
When I try to write those words
They blot across my page
Obliterating all other words in my story
Washing out all the words I love

If I tried to list them here
They would do the same
Swell from the windows of my soul
And storm down like a curtain of obsidian rain
And you wouldn’t be able to read
What I’ve already written

There are words that I love
Not just because of what they mean
By definition
But because of what they mean to me

As if all the pain and anguish, sorrow and grief
Could be washed away
In a reign of love
Like the sun breaking through the clouds
To dry up the darkness
When I try to write these words
I see them all over my page
Weaved all through my story
Writing over all the words I hate

If I tried to list them here
They would overflow
Swell from the windows of my soul
Pour out like a gift from the Spirit
Tear through the curtain
Roll away the stones
And burst out of the grave
And you would only be able to read one word
In the brightness of the light
A Name