Books were safer
Even when they disappointed
Or twisted to unexpected ends
If they spirited me
Into danger and certain death,
I could always return to ground
With but a scratch on my memory.
Even though they created for me
Wicked worlds, shrouded in pain,
They brought me to places
Where hearts are healed and souls revived.
They filled me up
With critical thoughts
And stretched my imagining
Above my intellect.
Books would never trade my trust
For lies
Or diminish my unguarded devotion.
They hold my place
And never betray my love
With envy or greed.
Books were always safer
Than other people
Anyway.
I’ve read a lot of strong poems in response to this prompt particularly, but I think this is my favourite. You convey the sanctuary books provide so well. The worlds they contain, even when they are not free from harm.
I particularly loved this section “If they spirited me
Into danger and certain death,
I could always return to ground
With but a scratch on my memory.”