To Shroud Them in Words

We’re words; we’re not lives.
We’re not on the Way.
We’re off to the side.

We’re from a deep past,
And if those who bore
The lives that made you

Spoke us, or did not,
It’s still not your past.
You learned us as tools

From your folks, from peers,
From books, from the news.
You may have changed us,

A bit, a small bit,
Your small bit—if so,
You won’t, can’t know it.

We’re quick to pick up,
But we’re hard to shift.
We’ll wait. You’ll leave us.

We’ll wait. If we go,
Who knows who was here?
You go. We’ll wait here.