No, in my world,
this goes quite the opposite.
Words imposed with feelings
hunt me down.
They will constantly badger me
in the moment with repetition
until I agree to sit down
and have these words
out of me,
to say what it is,
they want me to say.
For they want me
to leave breadcrumbs
for the minds and hearts
of others.
They want me
to put whole feelings
into and behind the words
themselves.
They want the potential
of burst forth to be embedded
in what I write.
I didn't forget the words.
No, they track me down
and forge in me,
a follow through.
And I am expanded
and somewhat frontal empty
while this all happens,
almost timelessly so.
And I look at what is written,
as if for a first time,
to say it out loud to myself,
before I pass it along . . .
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