Wordplay

Haven't written a whole lot lately.
Not exactly sure why; maybe its happening all too fast.
Parhaps I shuddered at the thought of having to put (cram) so much
Into the tiny, expensive spaces the words occupy -- signify
Certainly there is much that craves to find the dignity
Of a few lines, setting it down in some memorial fashion.
Certainly that's the least I could do
For so much sleep lost, given over to watching deep into the night
And rocking restlessly to the nightbird's song

I need to say, for instance, that I want to be significant far more
than I desire to be faithful (or even thought of as faithful).
At least, I need to see how it looks on paper -- feel the feel of it
on my tongue
Set it to a particular music, rather than the careless song that
repeats itself endlessly in my mind, molling and roiling about
as the sea-tide foams in the calm before evening

I did that, not for shock effect, merely, though I wanted to
put myself on notice -- something significant happening
Sacramental symbol-play, creating the reality it purports to represent
Now I can wrestle in some organized fashion with its meaning
As if such significance could be attached to a word, weary with travelling
so far, and on such short notice, pressed into extra duty no one could forsee
Now I string along other meanings, like beads, straws on camels' backs
Until I come to the one that topples my house of cards -- inevitably
I sigh, and start over all again, piecing the words together differently this time
Never stopping for a moment to inquire whether my fragile building blocks might
pose a far more difficult obstacle to my task of understanding
than I first imagined

No, they must do, for they are all I have to work with
And I have seen this fragile deck balance the world upon its tiny breast
So I know it can bear the weight of my imaginings
As it once bore the majesty of God's breath -- the inklings of a world
Dust and spittle -- life

I, a product of same Word, inhabited and inhabiting Word
situated on the floor, surrounded by mere words that haunt and taunt me
with their pregnant promise, bearing Truth to term
but not in my careless hands alone do they dance like the tide pulled by the moon
the very rhythm of the universe
A mighty tug so fearful I cannot bear to be aware of it
Though I see it moving oceans
coaxing babes from warmth of womb into this bracing world of so many words
searching for one Word, alone, will do.
Copyright © 1994 Bo Gordy-Stith