A Childhood Rhyme...a poem from 2009

http://voices.yahoo.com/a-childhood-rhyme-3741678.html?cat=10 A Childhood Rhyme Sticks and stones, they may break my bones. So goes the rhythm of childhood rhymes. Bricks and stones, they build our homes. So the rhythm of life goes. Throughout all time we've been building our own tombs. Words spoken drift through the night, willing one too fight. Words spoken in haste drift throughout the night. Tossing out a word here and a word there we fail to see... Fail to see the words we have used that have encouraged and inspired. Carelessly we toss out a phrase here, and a phrase there, never really giving heed. Too soon we remember it was a bridle for our tongue that was our greatest need. Laughing we quote the famous childhood rhyme, one more time. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. So we quote this rhyme. Funny how it is the words we speak can inspire, encourage and defy and defeat. Strange how it is our words that many will repeat. Stitches and casts, will mend many a wound. But a word spoken will travel the world around. Words may not hurt my flesh 'tis true. But my friend it is with words the world goes round. It was the spoken word that breathed the life into man,  The spoken word of God is how all came to be... "In the beginning God..." You know the rest, you can see. The spoken word it cannot be changed, the spoken word it travels on the winds of the air. A caution, a guard it is needed for all those words we have said without a care... Have we yet forgotten? The power of life and death, it is held in the tongue. Pay heed. It is time we see those who have the greatest need. Sticks and stones may break many a bone. But it is the spoken word that will make or break the home. Casts and stitches may mend our fleshly wounds it is true. But words spoken can never be recalled neither by me or you...