There are times when I pause and wonder how
the words that are my stock in trade view me.
Do I empower them, give them a meaning
that they would lack without my imposed
context, or do I imprison them, locking them
on a page or screen, forced into proximity
with others they never would have chosen.
What would they say to me if I had not
demanded fealty to my ideas and presentation?
I would like to think they would applaud
my choices, or at least not begrudge them,
but I know there is a chance that they would
flee the page, seek a better home, a better
writer who would help them take flight.
I will never know, of course, since they
have no voice save mine, condemned to do
what I choose until I choose again and
possibly again, never allowing them to tire,
to say “we have had enough, stop already.”
So I pause and wonder silently for the words
always refuse to partake in this futile gesture.