An Apology to Buried Words

Stale words clutter a dresser drawer, locked away from everyone.
Attempted verses of free and rhymed that will not, shall not ,
Could not ever see their way out of there.
The drawer is their sanctuary and sentence.

Once upon a moment, each had a chance to breathe,
To bound around, to live. Sadly, they could not sustain
Their place in the spotlight. Some never lived past the
First utterance. Some survived, even thrived, in a collection,

Which, when gifted to others, gave them a chance to see the
Outside and talk to people. Where they are now, nobody knows.
Most, though, are not that fortunate. For this, only I am to blame.
These words sacrificed their honor, their dignity for me.

These words trusted me, left themselves open to my touch.
Poor little words. I wish your faith in me was not for naught.
I could not make you shine. I could not make you proud.
Instead, I used you, then discarded you, burying your still-vibrant
Bodies upon one another, shrouded you in darkness, leaving you
To dwell upon mistakes and regrets that I should be shouldering....
How shall I make amends?
Perhaps I can take you all to the backyard. There, untouched for

Over a decade, stands your only chance for release. Yes, I shall do it!
I shall carry all of you to the barrel. Yes, you will be released from
Your bonded prison! Freedom will be yours. A chance for someone
Else to grant you your rightful place. I have failed you, sweet words,
And I will make amends. Here in this barrel,
Fire shall set you free!
Your liberation is guaranteed!
Fire shall set you free.

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