December 9th, 2006

Those Words

And then sometimes the words, those fickle little buggers, those words, they stop. Dry up. Go home. Return from whence they came. I imagine them there, those words, in their own world. They’re giggling there. Giggling and running over the silk grass in their bare feet. Perhaps picking fruit from the tree or lying besides a rosemary creek. Living, breathing, playing but distant, not here, not now.

So I begin with a whisper. Call to them. I imagine it arrives on a lazy northern wind. They hear. They hear all the urgent whispers but not today, not this week. They ignore me. This is their time. A time to grow plump with bold courage and stout depth.

I need them now though. Now dammit. A bit more stern the second time, more insistent. Doesn’t matter. Those words, they don’t care. And then a slight chill runs up my spine, a ghost catches my breath. They’ve left me. Abandoned me. I am alone. Facing a blank screen, prepared to unleash a torrent of blinding wit. But nothing.

Alone. Oh and few ands a couple buts maybe a the or two, they’ll amble my way but nothing substantial. Nothing that’ll warm my guts and set my fingers ablaze. Pedestrian nouns and common verbs will create a kingdom but only if they arrive, only if they cooperate.

My mind tumbles inward crushing itself under the weight of insecurity. I grab a blanket. It’s cold, so cold without those words. I shiver. I stare. I pound myself into insignificant pieces. I walk away.

Fuck ‘em. Who needs the words. I’ll play. I’ll run across my own silk grass. I’ll pick my own fruit. I’ve got a rosemary creek around here somewhere. I don’t need those words.

And then a curious thing happens. Here they are. Hidden the whole time. Hidden under my need. I didn’t need them and here they are. I need them and there they go.

I will remind myself of this, to let go sometimes. Yearning brings you to the edge. It also keeps you there. Letting go of these shackled needs. I’ll try to remember this. There’s nothing I need. I am greater than my scarred flesh and brittle bones. Just a reflection my spirit sees in the mirror. The illusion of need. Use it. Don’t build a steel cage with it.