Dyslexia, a central character to my story

enabled me to see inside-out and center to edge.

Librarian skill, also central, cataloged the contents of the attic trunk:

words of nonsense? to the trash~

words of daydream? fly them out the window~

cruel hateful words? erase them like grease pen smudges on whiteboard~

words of judgment? light a match and watch them burn.

I also found words of understanding and words of love  

words of equality and words of kindness, and I said

Oh, please, do come and sit with me 

show me what you are.

Teach me all of your words and

I will write them until I can write no more.