I Create Myself With Words

At some point, in nearly all cultures, some industrious tale-teller managed to craft a story about the beginning of life. Some were tales of thunder and rainstorms—others were through a wise animal. But it seems a fundamental ingredient to humanity that at one point, we ask ourselves where did we come from.

The Judeo-Christian version has an interesting spin on the process. Rather than entrusting this critical task to fantastic displays of nature or gods making love—this narrative chose to begin the world with words. In fact in the first lines of the gospel of John, he recounts this beginning by stating “In the beginning was the word.”

That phrase has captured me for years and is something I try to play around with in my poetic endeavors. I try to step into the role of artist/genie/magic woman and imagine what I can weave if I could verbally reproduce myself.

Before I came to be

I existed within the soul of words

In the whispers of secret languages

In the midst of art, embedded in hieroglyphics

Before it all came to be

Before I came to be

My soul existed within a word

Then sometimes I imagine the act of creation to be a delicious secret.

There are some things so secret

That even a whisper

Is fearful of the sound of its own breath

It lives in the soft-sensation of rubbing thighs

In the small sparkle behind the eyes

My heart’s palpitation multiplies

As a glory of wonder

And I know

Even if it feels imagined

I am never more alive

I suppose then

That is the revelation of the word

In spite it all


And then of course I revert back to John and in my ode to his poetry, play with the words of creation

In the progeny

            Of the progeny

Words cohabitating with words

            Made love to more words

That reproduced existence

            And in that creation

I gave birth to myself


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One Response to I Create Myself With Words

  1. Pingback: Language Of The Soul | seventhvoice

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