Tip of My Tongue

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A word perches on the tip of my tongue.


It spins fear while contemplating what comes next,

When it finally musters the courage to fly forth. 

Life changing sometimes feels like life ending... 

And so, it trembles a bit with thought pressing hard

Against its silence.


What if the word, once loosed, carries the power to hurt

Or maim? Am I ready and able to shoulder the blame 

for damaging blowback to my life or my loved ones' lives?


Let's not be absurd. It's just a word, 

After all. Take a deep breath, let it fall

To find its own level, its own receptacle.

Surely someone somewhere will know 

It was meant for them. They'll take it in

Without distortion, feel the urgency 

Behind its intent, its living essence.


Such are the ruminations plaguing one

Who acknowledges the power of utterance.


Then comes the little shit's voice.

Who do you think you are?

You're so full of yourself.

Do you really imagine you can shift the balance

By simply opening your mouth?

You're delusional. Shut up and crawl

Back under your rock, you slimy slither.


Alas, it's no longer child's play.

This worldview has had its day.

No more will the forces of oppression 

Operate unseen behind the scenes.

The curtain was yanked back.

People have awakened.

Critical mass has been achieved.


Without understanding what I do or why,

I hold my tongue, reserve a word 

For this exact moment. Will it have the power 

To do or undo? To interrupt, even for a millisecond, 

The downward spiral humanity's caught in? 

To refuse the lies underpinning society, 

Yet grant us authority to envision our world differently? 

To shift, ever so slightly, the warp and weft 

Of common decency and this, our shared story?


Obeying an inner law, I release it into the world,

Anticipating an echo, resonant proof it was heard.

I know it sounds absurd, but...


What say you?





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