Lida


In memory of Lida Innsworth Post (1866 - 1947)

Come.

Bring a word.

A faith of letters etched on glass,

Embossed on leather,

Carved into wood,

Purposely vague,

Invariably misunderstood.

And I have no regrets.

Lead me astray

With words spoken brilliantly.

Remind me of a sign,

A sacred spell

Once overheard

As you made your way upwards,

A gilded sentence

Seamed to an intoxicated bird.

In the beginning,

In our beginning,

There was a word.