Anvil

Baret Magarian

Words are bastions, sentinels, angels,

but they unleash demons when

lies bend reality,

turn truth to dogma, beat it like an anvil.

The age is one of cosmetic sheens,

the low blue glow of the computer screens…

If we could wash all words,

make language non-negotiable,

seal it, peel it, heal it,

would words deliver

utopia, the dream

of all wrongs righted, all peoples emancipated,

the suffering of the world stilled?