The library sometimes pretends
it’s water and ocean,
with tempestuous phrases pouring from pages
forming rivers,
wrestling with wobble of waves
in the turbulent bay,
where the lighthouse is darker and cold.
where readers are billowing, bobbing
and drowning, stupidly stumbling
on syllables shattered from sense.
This colloquy of colleagues,
is fracturing friendships to tribes,
the violent words are wager of wars
and can only be cured by the steward,
the wielder of words,
the librarian bringing
order to maladroit chaos,
reminding that sometimes
the silence is needed when reading.
This is linked to toads, where Kim is asking us to write poems based on the word maladroit. I might have stumbled a bit out of line, but it felt that I can use it as an extended metaphor for the way we all seem to stumble with reason.
Perhaps we need the librarian to bring order in chaos.
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