Published by Dr. Tony Attwood December, 2011
Words. They are stuck.
It’s stuck in my throat.
No place to go.
Easing it out with very little tools
Sharp objects obstructing its path
Worrying its way through. There.
Some words still left behind
Deeper down in the pit
In the stomach, hastening to escape.
Unsure how to let go
How to form itself into a phrase
Is it too sharp, is it too loose?
Will it hurt others
As much as it hurts me?
Should I bury it for eternity?
It tumbles around and spins inside
The ruckus is overpowering
Jumbled. Bumping into the walls.
Loud noises of chaos from within
Unable to stifle, patience wearing thin.
How to transition from this phase?
What will these thoughts reflect
To those who land with it
And what will they perceive it to be?
Once it is out, it is free
Free of me but free for them too
And never can you know, what they will do.
For ‘tis the soul
That weaves your essence into cloth
Sparkling in the sun with its glint
Taking with you a story of your past
To wear on your sleeves for all to see
True intentions, merely a hint.
Inhibitions exploding like a raging sea
Cloudless skies not marring your thoughts
Your words are free to soar.