The Language of SensesThe irony of life;

Our greatest fear is the only shoo-in: 

To be forgotten. 

Death is not what we fear, 

It’s a symbol of our name being plucked from the web

That no drink, no marriage, nor, no wealth 

Can weave quite the way words do.

Words are our ghosts; the echo of our life.

The closest existence to remembrance

In which paper and pen embed identities.

Handwriting; a depiction of previous emotions,

Brash strokes of anger or curly loops of thought.

The written word is as though we have beaten death,

Inhaling the ink; a transportation to reincarnation

By allowing us to take one last breath.

The breath, rhythmic as it is

Our whole bodies dance to the beat.

Words kept us alive, but, music, 

That makes us live.

Nature converses in music, beckoning us to listen.

The white noise of a busy city clashes in discord.

Yet, with the pluck of a string and a change of fret,

it prescribes a hearing aid to our lost souls,

Provoking the emotion we need.

Music doesn’t cover other noises, 

It helps us become sound. 

We love language. 

Letters to notes fill our world. 

Yet, no language is as loveable as a dog’s,

Where words are no longer written or heard;

They are spoken.

Through the licks of urgency to wipe away tears,

Or the patient waiting, by the door, until you come home,

Or, the rapid leap of excitement at your arrival. 

Dogs speak the language of love in the purest form. 

And, oh my, would I like to learn.

Kindness Kills

Be polite

Well mannered

Don’t talk back

The kindness I was raised with

Goes well beyond 

The please and thank yous

My kindness is empathy

It is the armor I wear on the daily

That just so conveniently is also the sword

The shield

The dagger

Females are armored with kindness

To please the man

To balance society

Female kindness is not male kindness

Female kindness is shutting up

Female kindness is not voicing your opinion

Male kindness is so rare it is assumed as seduction

Male kindness is the basics for females.

It is time

Females

To clean our swords

Take out our daggers

Throw away our shields

And fight with fight;

Not kindness.

Sophie Camplejohn (writer) Ivana Bosančić (photographer)

Author Sophie Camplejohn (writer) Ivana Bosančić (photographer)

More posts by Sophie Camplejohn (writer) Ivana Bosančić (photographer)

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