borrowers.
The Whites never had to buy words.
The words were handed to them, crowned upon their lips like little stars between their teeth, words they swallowed with their toothless mouths when they were born. They trickled down their stomachs.
The Whites never bought those words, mark my words. They didn’t buy them like my parents bought ours, dirtied and washed and washed and washed again, in umpteen attempts to maybe next time make the scars disappear. Our words have no stars. Our words do not get swallowed. We bought them, second-hand and slightly too small for us, too frowned upon.
We bought our words with our blood. With the purchase we are here. Not the Whites.
Words cannot be stolen. They are not exchanged. They are bought or taken, but I cannot cover your mouth to prevent you from speaking my words. I cannot stop anyone from saying what they want. All I can say is that I know some words are mine, some yours, and some unclaimed.
I bought my words.
Words which have been bought can never be taken; every instance is a borrowed one, unless spoken by the owner. Words which do not belong to anyone are always taken. Those words are nomads. Those words stay afloat. Each speaker is its owner.
I borrow your words which you have purchased (if you have). You borrow mine. But shall I not return your words with less scars? Shall I not return them, once it leaves my mouth and the expression is complete and the concept is conceived in my listener’s head--shall I not return them like new? Why should I slash more scars into your word, your word which I borrowed? I am humble; I speak your word with care, and I minimize my damage. Like borrowed books, I do not add more dog-ears, do not rip out pages, do not write over the meaning.
Sometimes we forget that we are borrowing. We let the scars stay open, still fresh to the stings of the rain, the dirt, the glares.
Sometimes, words should not be borrowed. Sometimes a word was so expensive that there is no chance that I will return the word with no more scars than it already has, because it has been bought with scars. The currency was blood, the middleman death; some words should not be borrowed. Some words belong only to their owners because these words weigh heavy even on their own tongues.
We are exchangers of words but borrowers as well. Forget not the words which have been bought with blood. Forget not to return your borrowed ones in good condition. Remember these words were bought by someone. They are not yours to keep, not yours to mutilate, not yours to toss in light jest when the word was bought with blood.