Regret

I adore how each word represents itself
in the congress of language.

It stands up, demands,
cajoles, thunders. It makes itself

known. I wish I’d been born
a word instead of…this.

Had I been born a word myself
instead of one enslaved to them,

I might have been more secure
when I spoke, could have gestured

at myself in many situations
and just said…”this.”

I might have been enough
had I been born a word

instead of fumbling among them,
seeking to put the best of them 

in the best order, hoping
to say something that validated me.