Palabra y piedra suelta, no tienen vuelta.
The saying advises caution because words cannot be taken back, especially hurtful ones.
Once upon a time there was a child as tall as a mountain. His throat was made of stones, and he was afraid. That child had never uttered a word in his life because he had seen other mountains crumble before his very eyes.
One day a bird approached him and asked him why he kept quiet. An earthworm leaned out of the stones of that child’s throat and answered on his behalf. The earthworm told the bird that mountains don’t speak because their words can hurt others. That every time a mountain speaks, rocks fall. The earthworm told the bird that the child kept quiet because he didn’t want to bury anyone.
The bird took wing. It alighted on that child’s ear and whispered a way to overcome his fear. The bird told him that the stones could easily be avoided just by taking to the skies. But the earthworm replied, once again on that child’s behalf, that not everyone has wings.
The bird and the earthworm got into an argument. The earthworm found fault with everything the bird suggested. The bird finally had had enough. It said that wingless creatures could just relocate upstairs, to the child’s head, well above the stones. And that time the child answered before the earthworm could do it on his behalf.
Thunderously, the child roared that the last thing he wanted was to have others living in his head. That the only reason he had kept quiet for so long was because mountains can only speak until they run out of stones and he never wanted to waste them.
Rocks fell. The bird saw the earthworm fall alongside them.
The story comes to an end. The bird flies after the stones, picks them up and swallows them one by one. Finally, there are stones in its gizzard. Something to help the bird grind the words it doesn’t say aloud.
Clouds come and go. Given the choice, I would shed my skin and trade it for that mountain’s perpetual snow. But I am just a lowly earthworm. Speaking on behalf of the Sky would be beyond presumptuous. I know my place. I wasn’t born to put words in some child’s mouth. No, sooner or later they learn to brush their teeth and I refuse to go down the drain. I was born to worm into a greener throat and color that child’s every word.
Most snakes dream of growing into dragons, but that thought fills me with loneliness. There might be an end in sight to the Sky, but I am not a child. I know that there is more below the horizon and blue is but the tip of the iceberg. Stars are a sight of the past, and sometimes Black worms into my worst nightmares. I have heard that there are completely deserted stretches of ocean, and I don’t know what I would do if I never happened upon another soul. I would rather turn into a small fish and meet my end in a puffin’s beak. I dream about that beak full of fish every night. The opposite of loneliness. So, if that sight has already gone the way of the stars, please keep it to yourself.
I am not tempted. Apples have nothing on the mountain I call home. I may be a worm, but I have no intention of whispering in anybody’s ear. Apples rot. Mountains last. I have rings. What I want is to scream and watch those ripples stretch to the horizon and beyond. I want to put words in more mouths than meet the eye. I want to be blamed from here on out. My name dug in eternity for all to see.
I am ready for a change of air. Something more challenging than earth or loose stones. Ears are easy to bite off, and I don’t want to keep echoing the same old three words from here to eternity. I want to shape mouths. I want to go through more than a million words, try them on for size and then make up my own. I know who holds the strings of that puppet. And soon I will worm my way into this mountain’s heart.
…
Lazy worm, quit slacking off.
You can’t do anything right, I should have done it myself.
Get out of my sight! You only had one job! How difficult can it be to put words in somebody’s mouth? All you had to do was watch the aftertaste! Now I will have to cry just to wash everything off!
Bird: Little worm, little worm, aren’t you going to come out and play?
Hidden Worm: …
Bird: Did you two have a falling-out?
Child: …
Bird: Lend me a stone.
Child: …
Worm: That’s a no, in case you were wondering.
Bird: Don’t be so selfish. Just one stone, I’m sure you won’t even know it’s gone.
Child: …
Worm: Can’t you see that he’s made of stone? You are looking for blood in the wrong heart.
Child: …
Worm: If I were you, I would put that stone back where it was.
Bird: Why would I do such a thing? He has no hands and I have wings; he can’t touch me.
Child: …
Child: …
Hidden Worm: He doesn’t need your pity. He already shouted his last words, and nobody asked you for a do-over.
I am running on empty. Even the echoes have worn off.
Some words are sharper than knives, they are sharper than beaks. They get in your eyes and change the way you look at the world. Irrevocably. I don’t want to pay it forward. I would hate myself if I did unto others what has been done to me. Those aren’t whetstones. I use them to grind my words, until there are no edges left.
Sorry, Worm, I didn’t know you were among those stones. I was in a hurry and just gulped everything down. What do you say? Since you are already there, it would be a shame to let your rings go to waste. I never go back on my word. When I commit, it’s for life. Why don’t you help me choose which words to let out of my mouth?
I have never watched a rockfall. I have encountered one or two loose rocks in my life, but there was no edge in sight, only an endless, dull stretch of road. There was a time when words rolled off my tongue. I tried to engage in life, but nothing came of it. Everything fell flat. I never got to see something larger than me.