My words ran away from me
Now I'm lost and they're out at sea
They come and go, like the breeze
Whisper sweet, burn like disease
They change with the day
Words have always been a struggle for me. Taking the swirl of thoughts, feelings, images and reactions out of my mind and blowing them into a bubble easily identified by another person, it's hard. At least, I find it hard. Maybe talking to me you may not know that there are times when so much tries to come out at once that I pull back and freeze, muttering the phrase "I don't know" under my breath. I do know, I always know but often I just don't want you to know that I know. My "I don't knows" are the armor to my vulnerabilities.
This is an on going pattern in my life, I remember a woman who had touched my life dearly when I was younger, Joanne, she told me not to worry about getting the words out perfect. That it doesn't matter how they come out but that they just come out. It's the listeners job to try and make sure they understand. That I often make more sense then I think I do. She also told me to listen to my hands, when I am talking my hands take on a life of their own, saying the things I can't seem to say. I'm never really aware of it.
Over time, I have become messier with my words, allowing mispronunciations, improper usage and uncensored remakes to come pouring out of my mouth. It's not in anyway thoughtless but it's just uninhibited, which I like. I dream of being an articulate speaker and maybe one day I'll be there. Sometimes, when my emotions are in the right position and I can tap into some underlying muse, I can say something good. I can say something real. I can say something vulnerable.
My words came back to me
They stayed awhile, we had some tea
While time whiled away
I said, "please be kind and please don't go"
They said, "we'll try, but you never know"
Depends on the day
-'Words' by Sonya Kitchell