Fickle, slim, too hard to hold onto things.
Thrown across a room. Across a galaxy. Across the distance between my lips and your eyes and all the moments stretched between.
I have said words in anger, in sorrow, in grief, in deep shattering rage. Words that slip underneath all the other words and change the truth of everything that was and everything that will be.
Who made of me such a powerful tool?
Yet other words have also been spoken. I have said words of joy, of pride, of love, of fierce belonging. Words that have freed everything within me to sing and to soar.