Words are a funny thing
So often they evade you, just when you have deep things to convey
My head streams with notions that curl from my toes,
Creep into the depths of my abdomen,
Gurgle in the tumultuous pit that is my gut,
Burn within my bones with a blaze that the winds of the times fan into flame,
Fumble through my limbs,
Cascade into my head,
Trickle into my mouth,
Roll onto my tongue…
And…
Stop
I cannot speak
I cannot say what is on my mind for fear that
Not only will you not understand,
You will misunderstand
So sometimes I borrow words
Words crafted throughout the ages
Words brewed in discontent and darkness
Words designed to create, to fashion, to make of the hearer what the speaker decides
Words borrowed because my own are to my ears: feeble, fumbling, false
Words that pierce ferociously
Words that wound instinctively
Words that bruise patiently…
I borrow words
From you
I borrow words
From them
And because
Words are a creative thing
Weaving a magic that spellbinds the soul
Though they be borrowed words, they become as mine
Until even I can not tell from whom they were first released
Me or you or them
Words that tell me that my nothingness is true
That my brokenness is nothing new
That pain is my portion and defeat my right
That my life will be nothing but a wasted, damaged night
And that was the cocoon in which I blossomed into a limping butterfly
Full of words that weigh down but won’t release me to cry
Borrowed words speaking life to many
But tattooing death into my own soul
As they drip from my lips
Heavy as lead
Falling to my feet
Words. Dead
But then I heard tell of one Word
Not a funny word, but THE Word
The Word made flesh
The Word who is and was
Living and whole
Not a borrowed word but the Author of words
I heard tell of a Word that calls into the darkness
And spouts shimmers of blinding light that the emptiness fails to fill
The Word that was in the beginning
Reaching out into nothing and pouring life into dry bones
Sewing flesh and blood and bone together,
Not meant to clothe mere mortality
Constructed to house a spirit built on the breath of a Word
Designed to fill with expression and song and joy and poetry and LIGHT
“Let there be LIGHT”
And brilliant slivers of hot light flooded my being as the Word spoke the words that once evaded me
So that even darkness is as light
And what was once hidden is now revealed
So I began to borrow the Word
To etch Him deep in the crevices of my broken heart
I scrubbed the Words into my skin until He leaked into my very marrow
Fused Him to the tendons of my body
Moulded Him into the cement of my joints so that I could walk with Him
Each step fortified by a word He spoke
I began to borrow the Word
The Word that was with God
The Word that WAS God
The Word before whom words that had long shaped my understanding
Crumbled like ancient ruins and stood as shadows of a life I once grasped with trembling fist
I borrowed the Word until the Word began to come alive in me
And speak new words over the ones I had borrowed before
From Darkness to Light
Pain to Patience
Despair to Hope
Filth to Purity
Shame to Honour
Lies to Truth
Bondage to Freedom
Hurt to Love
Love