Superstitions, spells and rituals
Are old, discarded things
Not fit to light the dark no more
Or clip the devil's wings
But there's still power there I think —
As long as we have words
And pack all of our hopes in them
And let them loose like birds
And use them to make maps of us
To find each in our fear
To paint a line round what we love
And say 'you are right here' —
As long as I have words to speak
And things I’ve got to say
There’s nothing you can show me
To convince me not to pray