Not all soft spoken, not all remembered. Voices loved and respected. Rapid thinkers and slow thinkers. Drawls and Queen’s English. The words that flow from American and British accents. The rhythms of the learned English of Norway, Denmark and India. The words of friends. The words of lovers.
The words of those who have lived. Poets in my head learned from school and from my mother. Words of beauty and pain together. Life lived and life lost, together. Frustration and the power of hope, together. Too many words to count, too many emotions and feelings to forget.
Words worn like clothes to protect me against the cold of indifference and the chill of ignorance. New words like new shoes walking with me along my days. Favourite words and words that change their faces as my face changes. Words that are names, sounds that are meaning, voices that are heart beats.