Words And Walls
I hide behind walls of words,
Stack them on top of each
Other, place them side by side.
Pensive pens and troubled trowels
Glue them together with chemicals
I don’t understand;
Watch the paragraph, the stanza rise
Down into enough depth that they cover my foundation
— The cowering self hiding beneath tangled
Roots of thoughts that should never see the light
Of anything. Layers after layers of dirt and decay
Sit on top of a chamber with prickling icicles
Enclosing an icy heart,
Afraid to melt away.
I hide behind walls of words, frantic fingers churn them out
In a factory with no holidays and no soul
And no bubble wraps, no styrofoam
Nothing to cushion the blows, to make sure the words come out alright
They don’t come out alright
They are broken, flawed, uncertain,
Accidents with glaring defects that stare at their creator
But my hands need to keep moving,
Producing these tragic creatures as fast as I can breathe;
Before my lungs give up, before I run out of air.
I push them out the door into the frontlines
Of battles I am meant to fight.
I command, I plead:
Please, dear words, go in my stead, stand where one needs to stand
Say what needs to be said
Speak in slow silences.
And they do, these poor beings,
Even if they would rather sit on an empty page,
Or loiter around a small, cozy dictionary
Even if they had dreamed of being in letters of passion and love,
Of matters of consequence;
In jagged, uneven
Lines, they shuffle out
Even words that are gobblematter gibberish and don’t mean anything at all:
Like wydisfee, like wacantye, like mornings, happiness, joy,
Poems.
