(dedicated to all the spoken word poets who constantly inspire me and remind me how powerful words can be)

 

Getting lost in someone else’s words is kind of nice.

Why?

Why, when my own words are so precious, do I allow myself the luxury of absorbing someone

else’s?

Perhaps it’s because sometimes I run out of words,

the river that feeds my mouth or my pen runs dry,

and I need someone else to say the words that I’ve become too exhausted to say.

I need someone else to say the words I’ve become too broken to say.

I need someone else to say the words I’ve become too hopeless to say.

I need to know that someone has said them.

That someone has felt the things I’ve felt and had the strength to put it into words.

That someone understands these thoughts that consume me.

That it’s not just me, that I’m not alone.

I need to know that when the endless tragedy of the world robs me of my own words,

that someone has refused to let the same happen to them.

Their words become my weapons and my shields,

walls of a fortress I barricade myself behind,

protection from the exhaustion and brokenness and hopelessness.

And perhaps, as I wrap myself in that safety,

my words will begin to return, flooding the river,

and I can reclaim weapons and shields of my own making,

build myself my own fortress,

and then offer that protection to some other tired, wordless soul.

Published by Sanika Bhargaw