Wax words

When you choose what you say and you speak less often,

Your words become like wax.

Not sticky, or slimy, or oily,

But as a hardened image

That takes time to articulate,

Can be slipped off your hand for later remembrance,

Retains most of the same feeling,

Isn’t as shaken over time.

The layers of the same, semi-indistinguishable emotion build up,

They cake over one another; they form a crust.

Something breaks, the entire glove cracks off,

And you pick up your pen,

And you feel something else,

And you start over.

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Published by

haleynoohra

I am a second-grade teacher and pastor-to-be who loves people. I spend my weekends with friends or wandering the museums of DC alone and with a journal, trying to put words on the places of the soul that still feel wordless. I spent most of my days at school trying to learn patience through my students and running on sheer nerdy passion. I follow Jesus Christ, and savor that as my most important identity--that I am a child of God, as are infinite others, regardless of their other identities. Christ is my one thing.

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