Chasing words is best left to wordsmiths

I can always tell when you think I’ve been neg­lect­ing you. Your curves become jagged edges, and your stems sud­denly seem to stretch to the skies whilst your drops caress the gravel on the ground beneath your feet. Your full stops become aggrav­ated stabs at the page, and then in the next instant there’s not an exclam­a­tion mark in sight. Thankfully.

I admit that I dabbled, I strayed, I dal­lied else­where. I played with paper planes and flir­ted with thoughts of grandeur. A desire for renais­sance. But you have a way of put­ting me in my place, remind­ing me. So remind me now, in this moment when I need my memory jogged and my con­science pricked.

This is who I am and what I am. This is what I do. It may never pay the angrily red­den­ing bills slap­ping onto the doormat, and it cer­tainly won’t solve the prob­lems of the world and his wife either near or far — whether they are sighed deep into my ear canal in the dead of night or glimpsed in dir­ect sun­light from fur­ther away than my eyes can com­fort­ably see. It won’t smooth the ridges in the car­pet or open up exclus­ive doors. It won’t cause the stars to shoot out of the pitch black vel­vet to light my path. It will never cure every anxi­ety, every ill, every fallen wish or unvar­nished truth that hides behind these eyes.

I’ll sit on the roof of this burn­ing build­ing then, gaz­ing down at the thin layer of snow that is mak­ing a pre­tence at cov­er­ing the pave­ment. I’ll watch the anim­ated dots wav­ing and scur­ry­ing, beck­on­ing for me to make my decis­ive move. But I won’t. I won’t move a muscle. I won’t chase. I’ll do what I always did, and simply con­cen­trate on the task of join­ing these words together to build a fire escape, a stair­way down which I shall make my swift exit into some­where. Some­where else. Bet­ter. Different.

(Of which I am not one, incidentally.)

Comments: 7

    Well done on the bloggy nom­in­a­tion, Wit­ness. Excel­lent way to go.

    Cliff | 01.26.07, 12:52

    It won’t cause the stars to shoot out of the pitch black vel­vet to light your path? I think it might, AUW, I really believe it might. And I also believe you might be one, incidentally.

    fiona | 01.27.07, 11:19

    Thanks for the con­grat­u­la­tions, Cliff — and Fiona, many thanks for your kind words, which made me blush.

    An Unreliable Witness | 01.27.07, 11:31

    (Word­less).

    This three-in-one thing is rather bril­liant. I feel totally sat­is­fied by my experience.

    Morgan | 01.27.07, 19:21

    “whether they are sighed deep into my ear canal in the dead of night or glimpsed in dir­ect sun­light from fur­ther away than my eyes can com­fort­ably see”

    Lovely.

    This is def­in­itely my favour­ite bit of your site (not that I don’t love the other bits too).

    Clare | 01.28.07, 21:13

    in this world there are few people with an abso­lute power over words. there are few who can shape them so eleg­antly, bend them so seduct­ively and coax them into becom­ing whatever they wish.

    you are one of these people. without a doubt.

    and so. | 01.29.07, 17:18

    Thank you, and so, for your excep­tion­ally kind words. I detect the soul of a writer within them.

    An Unreliable Witness | 01.30.07, 21:39

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