The words and I sit together

Still and silent

For a very long time.

I can feel a growing sense of frustration, as a foul, rotten stench wafts through the air, tightening around me.

Gagging and retching, I try to gain my legs in order to leave.

But it seems the words have conspired with, not against, my body in order to force me to stay. For my legs are paralyzed, and though I try to gather the full force of my mental powers to compel my legs to stand, they have the final say in the matter.

Motionless they are. Motionless they remain.

We fight for a while, my legs and I, but it is no use. I have sat far too long with these sour words.

In due time, I feel the painful prick of sharp knives piercing my skin.

These word are not kind.

Not kind at all.

I have no idea how long I sat before I finally realize all their frustration is directed at me.

“I don’t understand why.” I accuse. “It’s you who aren’t cooperating.”

Not wanting or willing to lose any battle, I try to move them, again – this stagnant pool of words before me. But they refuse to budge.

“Go here.” I insist. “No, you don’t belong there. Move.”

Try as I might, the words continue to behave like rebellious children, refusing to mind.

I am trapped in a room full of stale, angry words

“What in the world am I supposed to do now?” I ask the walls. Though, they too seem to echo the words. Silence.

Certainly, I can’t say that I blame them. They are only acting exactly as I feel.

Stubbornly, I continue to push the words around. And while I persist in trying to string them together for an answer, they begin tripping over one another. Jumbling together like an angry mob. Clashing with each other. Jostling for position.

Intent, I try to decipher the dispute unfolding before me. They are arguing over who will lead, who will have the last word, and who will influence.

Silly words. I sigh and roll my eyes like a petulant child.

I want to scream at them.

Be quiet!

Line up!

Do as you are told! (By me, by the way. I’m the one doing all the work around here.)

Yet despite my demands, the words remain jumbled and confused.

They are on strike.

It didn’t surprise me when Why separated from the crowd. He is often the first to move, almost always standing alone.

Very bold that word.

I offer a sigh of relief. At last, one word came to its senses.

In that moment, several of the other words break away from the angry mob and manage to line up. Only not into any cohesive form.

Tired being of we around are pushed.

I roll my eyes and puff. “What?! You make absolutely no sense, you useless, horrible words!”

They shuffle around a bit and change positions.

Around pushed being of tired are we.

With pause, I reflect.

“Do I push you around?” I ask, horrified at the realization.

YES!

And here I always thought myself a kind and considerate person.

Humbly, I offer a genuine apology, “I am so very sorry”. I had never once stopped to consider that maybe the words themselves had something to say.

Releasing a collective sigh, the words feel my sincerity and relax.

Now, They offer. Let’s get to work.

~

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