No Words

Words were supposed to be my currency
is it any wonder that I am mostly broke
and broken? Words, in my life for years
have been on strike. They refuse to work
for me anymore. They are simply absent
or brazenly neglectful of their duties towards
meaning making. Blatantly rebellious or
worse, they’re derisive – the roughest, meanest
word appearing at just the moment that demands
the softest, sweetest one. Words have the last laugh
on me, day in and day out. Having left my service they
sit in groups - smoking, chatting, taking great pleasure
in watching me struggle with blank screens and silence
that they know, oh so well, is not my element.
“Dear words, pray come back and let us
work together again,” is this what they wish
to hear? Or “Dear words, I accept defeat
you are supreme, I bow before you?” Or
“Dear words, I was wrong. I work for you
not you for me” – surely that would work?
Maybe, one day, I will find the right words
to woo back words – until then...