Words.
I stand transfixed by them.
Dancing over pages, crisp and white
and still with the silence
of death, steeped in the revolving
joy of life.
I wonder why
I always end up here
alone in times of need,
in times of pain, alone
with packaged thoughts,
society is to blame, to blame
for my reflections being
second hand, education has
kept from me, virgin words,
untouched by other minds
and, sometimes, the ability
to even create, fixed, fixed,
on the blank white pages,
the same words in different order,
their interpretations change,
as do interpreters, in repetition,
they are forever transcribed.
These words I read seem
powerless, not perilous, yet
they have truth, in truth
they isolate me, recognising
them leads to understanding.
Understanding!
A light in the darkness,
moving around furniture,
making a place to inhabit
mentally, emotionally and
in reality.
Please understand these words`
and then the shock of knowing
can stand before them
these words, my mind
stiff and cold, hostile, hostile,
the words would be the same.
They don’t weep with me or
laugh with me, as if their
creator had breathed life
into them. They are dull
and empty because I seek
some haven beyond them.
A place to mourn and be heard,
a place to scream and be pitied.
A place to fall and not be
ignored or blamed
with hot darts of fury.
Why am I alone in this?
reading the words that define
my life and my heart
shouting them words that
fall into the silence of
white pages becoming yellowed.
Unheard.
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