I am not sure when I started writing this poem or why or whose kitchen I stood in, but possibly it will help us think more about words. Ironically when I was finished, it had a word count of 1,000. I know with social media and texting, we often take words wrong or quickly respond without thinking about our words. Even still, what if all the words we spoke about ourselves were tasted and measured?
Psalms–Tehillim 139:14 Orthodox Jewish Bible (OJB) ” I will praise Thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; marvelous are Thy ma’asim (works); and that my nefesh (soul) knoweth very well.”
I dropped words
They shattered on the floor.
Right in front of you
He dropped words, 22 letters crowned with Glory.
Holding the cosmos together
I never meant for my words to fall, or me, for that matter.
But you didn’t seem interested in catching them.
His words sailed through the seas.
They were brightly colored blooms of an almond tree.
My words went soaring through your kitchen towards your heart.
You stood awkwardly and let them fall.
I held Words out for you in the palms of my hands.
Big pink balloon blossoms,
You pulled out a needle and popped them.
You squinted your eyes, and then you twisted your mouth.
Yes, you released silent words in ways that needed no explanation.
I acted as if my words were not lying on your cold tile floor.
You stepped on two verses as you maneuvered to the coffee maker.
And flung a few careless words into the air.
Not only did you not catch the ones I gave you.
Later you stopped sending any words at all.
The few that made it into your mouth, you spat back out.
I tried to package mine better, and I held them in my mouth for a bit.
Measuring their worth before releasing them to you
I added hues of ruddy sunburst and hints of emerald green.
Tiny delicate touches to make the words kinder, sweeter.
I bounced words up and down like a basketball.
Then polished them up like golden apples.
But you kept looking for a worm.
Inspecting them for flaws
I extended them again.
Take these pretty words from me, I said
Yet they dangled there in mid-air.
Words suspended with no one to grasp them.
Just hanging there like a dangling modifier.
Was there something so ugly inside of my soul that your eyes bore holes?
I left and came back another day.
I brought different words.
Yes, that day. . .
I held words in my fist.
I clenched them tightly to my chest and blew them into the air.
Into your face
I looked intently into your eyes.
Like a breath of wind, the words breathed.
You made your face like stone and wrapped it in a marketed smile.
A fissure really
Like a pumpkin face
Perhaps you didn’t know how to taste the words I used from His Word?
The power of them is mightier than the sword.
Forged in fire and blasted with Ruach
They are like the gilded wings of a bird taking flight.
Like a wasp stinger embedded in our soul
We wad up words and layer them with love, judgment, and hate.
Then fling them in the face.
Or throw none at all.
Some words smell like a rotten corpse,
Lying naked on the floor
Other words float above like a tuft of cotton.
Our jaws can bring stale perfume.
Thoughtless words dissipate before noon.
Words that linger on the surface
Words that rattle from a cage
Words that splatter candle wax
And words that type
Empty words from comic books and politicians with a hook
Words from the young still tainted with puffs of air, pride, and sexual flair.
Words like magic carpet rides
And words like diamonds light up the skies.
Words as thick as molasses
Words that comfort, heal and hold
Words that open doors and shut
Words from babes who utter sounds
And all the words that fell to the ground –
That no one caught or let soak in,
To lend an ear or be a friend.
And all these words clutched in my fist.
I hope one day to breathe on paper and send words that sail the seas.
Words layered with Torah seeds and honey from bees.
Words that stand up tall and hold sounds
Words that were spoken on the Mount and words that cause fires to burst
Words that no longer can break or hurt
Or wound or tear
or make feel bare
Yes, Words that bring a shine.
Words that neither run nor hide
Nor bother to rhyme
Words that are tucked away in shoes
Standing on His Word
Words that form a song that soothes
And words that sing a halleluYah
Words that pump through my veins
For all I have to give to you are words
I have no fortune; I have no fame,
All I have are these words in the palms of my hands
The ones I picked up off your floor
The ones I washed and prayed over again
With my frail limp hands
For it is all I have
My Abba Father—
My best friend
The one who washed me with His Words
Like goat milk soap and the freshest rain
Like precious oil upon my head
His Words hold me still.
Help me heal
Turn my heart
Still my soul
King David’s words helped me through many nights.
And Job’s words I carried in my lungs.
Yes, “I know that my Redeemer lives.”
Songs from Solomon
And cries from Jacob.
Wisdom words marching with ants
Proverbial songs and stories that dance
I long to hear from you again.
Without your words, my heart feels bruised.
My Abba’s Words are like aged wine.
That gets smoother all the time.
His Words I’ve wholly stored
Tucked and polished and hidden beneath
Inside my soul forever, they keep
Like a river of never-ending love
Hold me up by Your Word.
Hold me up by Your Son.
Take my Words and wash them in Yours.
Take these words spilled on the floor.
And whisper to those who no longer speak.
Who step over the words I am trying to fly.
That I love them regardless of my inability to form one word to heal
Storm . . .
Photo by Robonwriting.