Poetry spoke
the language of the long dead.
Its curious spelling and strange vocabulary
foreign on my tongue.
It called to me,
through intervening years,
a plea from those who penned the lines I read,
that they be understood and so live on
in books that many hands have held
some with care, some without.
The language,
developed and moved on,
a living thing,
adapted in spoken and written form,
so that it may convey, the messages of our time,
to include or exclude.
I hope
generations yet to be
will listen to the words
of long forgotten use
and hear the call
of poetry.
Copyright © 2021 Lily Lawson
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