Dry Season

There have been times
When I was drowning
In words

I worked to keep
My head above them
Treading
Up to my mouth
Gasping
Choking on
The likes of
"Pulchritude" and
"Mucilaginous"

I have worn words
Like a chain mail tunic
For armor
Sharpened them
For
Protection

They have been
A big part
Of me
Maybe all
Of me

But now words
Are scarce

I make my way
Across a long
And lonesome
Bleakness

Letters
Dry as leaves
Blow past
On the hot wind

I try to puzzle
Them together
With needle and thread
To little
Success

They no longer
Visit me
In my dreams
No longer leap
To the tip
Of my tongue
Wait in line
With hand raised
Mouthing
My turn
Me! Me!

This dry season
May continue

Or the rains
Might come

I don't know

But I carve out
A space for words
In case they
Pass by this way

A warm
Quiet
Open
Space