Controlling My Words

The tightrope I walk of trying to control my words,

It’s a delicate and fragile art.

To choose the words that are clearly heard,

Yet also guard the chambers of the heart.

It’s difficult, so hard, to curb the tide,

That surges from within my soul.

The truths I feel, I cannot hide,

And often lose my firm control.

My tongue is like a river,

Swift and deep,

It often overflows its banks, in earnest flow.

The words I speak, I sometimes cannot keep,

Though wisdom says, “Go slow.”

Be wise,

I really mean no harm, my heart is true,

The feelings spill,

I speak my view,

I often say too much to you.

The consequence, a mirrored face,

Of understanding, or of pain.

I strive for grace, in time and space,

To find the balance, once again,

For though my heart wants to be bare,

And lay its feelings at the door,

A careful word, a precious fare,

Is worth the effort, and much more