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little gods of little words

A Girl Writing; The Pet Goldfinch — Browne, Henriette (1829–1901) -public domain


little gods of little words

we think we write

for faceless millions

though it might well be

for no one at all

stuck in our endless autumn

of ink-stained leaves

that fall and fall

on deafened ears

yet still we write

like little gods

creating against all odds

tossing bottles in an endless sea

to wash ashore

on miles of empty beach

little gods of little glory

we write

some to heal

some to just forget

but write we must

for every little word might harbour

that new beginning

that feeble light that shines

in a darkness that does not comprehend


With a wink and a nod to John 1:1–5.

I’m sure he comprehends and doesn’t mind.

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