A word arose from out of nowhere
‘Vicissitude’ it said to me;
Wrenched from somewhere deep inside,
It felt as though it had to be.
Long, not easy to pronounce,
Its meaning vague, irrelevant.
Just a word, devoid of meaning,
Neither neat nor elegant.
But full of promise, of expectation,
Why it appeared I could not say;
Rolled off the tongue with but a murmur;
Perhaps a poem was on its way.
When I researched and felt its import,
Then it was I realised
That words jump out and take a hold;
They do not live to be despised.
They have a life that’s all their own;
They have an ache to be pronounced,
To demonstrate their unique depth
To live, to love, to be announced.
‘Vicissitude’ is but one word
That truly lives when it is said.
There is a joy in every word –
Heard, used, spoken, or just read.