You said it.
We say it all the time.
Strings of ammunition that hit right where the landing deserves. Eyes closed, or wide open. In the dark or when the light blinds the truth. In the cold cellar or the warmth of furnished rooms that echo. In the saddle of a steady horse or in the river where smooth water and hard pebbles run in unison. In the sky on a jet plane as night falls and the tail beams the journey or during late lunch in a buzzy cafe that can’t drown out those words.
Words take only seconds to utter, but last forever.
They scream through choir choruses in the house that He built. They cramp your style after scrolling videos that recall what he said. One word can make the night a struggle. Two words won’t wait for sorry. Three words will be imprinted on that side of your brain. Four words cant’t go down the drain because of stickiness. Five words congregate around your death bed with fastening sorrow.
Words can’t be flushed down like stained tissue, withering under the wet faucet.
Recovering and rearranging is for palatial structures that can withstand the attention. Trying to pretend it never happened is like reclining back to birth, and waking up with added years. Expensive gifts will do, but what about that thing you said?
What did you say?
It only ends when we stop remembering. And even then, it’s out there already.
Those words have no end.