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Tuesday, January 20, 2015

I want to write my story in flesh

Last week I posted a poem by Kathy Galloway. Today I post another. What follows is my response.

Tuesday: Author-ity

Some people want to eat their words. 

Me, I'd rather regurgitate mine. 
Throw them up. Flush them down the toilet. 
Big words. 
Long words. 
Important words. 
Poisonous words. 
Difficult words. 
'In' words. 
In the words of the song, 'I'm so sick of words'.
'...just let me say this...'
'...if I could get a word in edgeways...'
'...you never listen to a word I say...'
'...though I speak with the tongues of men and 
     angels...'
Passwords
Cover words
Swear words
Lying-in-your-teeth words

But without words

there are no stories.
Even the artist in the cave

had a word
to distinguish 'horse' from 'bull'
and so translate the images distinctly.

Perhaps the key is in the way you use them.

Is it kind?
Is it necessary?
Is it true?
To answer these requires the use of many more words
discerning words
listening words
evaluating words
'In the beginning was the Word. And the Word became
     flesh...'

I want to write my story in flesh.

Embody it.
Incarnate it. 

I want to write my story in flesh

These words I write to tell my story
my past
in part
yours, too.

Every detail of my story
and yours
is different,
and yet,
cut to the bone,
the same blood flows.

My flesh is
love, hope,
fear, apathy,
grief, joy,
bounding,
and stagnation.
It is quiet.
And raucous.

Sometimes there are no words

Beauty
indescribable.

Pain
indescribable,
because I don't know
how to feel your pain,
the suffering I know
is a fragment
of your hunger,
your anger,
your loss.

These words I write to tell my story
now,
knowing I'll shed this skin
soon.
It won't fit,
I hope.
I will stretch it, rip it off,
I hope.

These words I write to tell my story,
my future.
Loose, these words,
this flesh
I grow into
as a child into clothes.

These words I write to tell our story,
our future.
The flesh I write for you and us is
passion
mercy
grace
love
justice
hope, always hope,
the details I don't dare.

I want to write my story into flesh
so I can touch it,
caress it.
Love it into being,
as I will do for you
if you let me.


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