When our words have lost their peace
- Melissa Herrera: Not Waiting for Friday
- April 7, 2025
- 334
I’m revisiting this essay from several years back. It’s as relevant today as it was then. Have we learned anything or dug even deeper?
A wise person I know said to me recently, “There’s no peace in our words anymore.” I sifted the heaviness in this statement and found it to be true. My life is a busy whirlwind, and keeping my head above water can be difficult. I seek places of solace and silence, where the din of the world is muffled for however many minutes I can keep it at bay.
But the words and racket of the blue sphere we rotate on, the swath that is our home, have become increasingly bothersome. The phrase “devoid of love” comes to my mind, and I look inward to see what I might do to change this trend.
I love word games. Scrabble, Boggle or Bananagrams — they are mixed bags of letters meant to form cohesive words to win points. I believe we’ve forgotten how to do this today, to carefully choose each letter and make a good word count. There are certain spaces I feel set upon by the verbiage that is thrust into the air around us and wonder if the meaning of words is considered before being used.
Most disheartening is the language we now use for groups instead of issues. Our words are stacked up in a ready-to-use pile aimed with a poison arrow for the people involved instead of the topic or problem.
Things that might be solved with the use of good words and compassion are now lost in a mishmash that no longer looks like beneficial discourse. We’re repetitive, parroting words that injure instead of words that might lead to a path of healing. We’ve lost the art of researching and gaining knowledge on a subject and instead react by using oft-repeated strings of prose that belittle and seem mindless.
I believe there are healthy ways of debating, when the use of smartly crafted sentences stirs up a mix of intoxicating conversation. I’m a nonconfrontational person. I avoid it like the plague. But a rush of adrenaline, when you can sense an exchange of words will be tempered and civil — words chosen and not thrown — this is what I aim for. We must debate and discuss, to test and examine a thing. This is good. But our loss of tact and love saddens me, and I can only hope the words we use thoughtlessly can be redeemed at some later date.
I have found there to be no peace in many of the words I see today. If you protest something with carefully crafted words, you are a troublemaker. If you share memes that degrade and call people names, then you are utilizing your freedom of speech. We are divided by words that cut and slice and have forgotten love for our fellow man.
Today I will type on my keyboard, piecing together letters and grammar to form paragraphs. If my words cut instead of heal, I am not doing my job as a writer. If I divide instead of connect, nothing of what I say will be read smoothly, and I become misunderstood, my words a jumble of distorted characters. Bringing hard truths to light with a mix of laboriously chosen words is necessary. Being a bully isn’t. Words matter; choose them wisely.
Melissa Herrera is a reflective writer who captures the beauty and sorrow of change. With a career spanning 14 years as an opinion columnist and the publication of two books, she resides in Stark County with her husband and four cats. She writes to preserve memories. You can reach her at junkbabe68@gmail.com.