In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was God.

In the beginning were church words,
lessons to be read to the rapt congregation.
Step up to the lecturn. Projection, enunciation.
This is the word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.

Sit down, kneel down, stand up, sing.
My sister and I knew all the lines, we mouthed along, we rolled our eyes.
The words of the Father, our father, preaching, teaching,
the stories of fishers of men,
of tax collectors and kings,
of shepherds and lepers and martyrs and saints
all the hims
never the hers.

In the beginning were polite words,
a script to be learned and performed when cued,
to speak out of turn was rude,
better be quiet, seen and not heard.
Opinions deferred. Sssh, girls.

In the beginning were silent words, words that I read making paths I could tread, dancing away to a hundred worlds, unlocked by my greedy eyes.
A secret garden, a rabbit hole, a castle in the clouds, a faraway tree, a pea green boat, a den of forty thieves, a clock that struck thirteen…

My head was full but my mouth was silent
I read everywhere. I was there but not there

Then I grew and I left. I traveled and wrote.
Good things happened.
Bad things happened.
A scream, trapped in my throat.
Spilling out in a hundred thousand words,
fingers dancing across the key board.
On screens, on pages the words are read.
What have I said? I have said what I have to say.
I have found my voice.
Listen.
I am speaking.

In the beginning was the word;
now in the end there are words and words and words.
A hundred thousand thousand words.
Released like birds
To fly where they will.
Never still, I have called them out,
written or spoken,
may they land well.