Tracing tiny fingers across countless pages
she rendered the universe solid
from a nebulous of half formed thought.
She named the world.
Sentence by sentence
she stitched our souls together
with the silken thread.
Her words became mine.
It was the ultimate gift -
the lexicon from which my truths were crafted.
So words are Love to me.
Words are my outstretched arms
when we are alone, you and I,
here in this hallowed space.
yet words of gratitude
to the one who gave me language -
words which should have been elixirs -
exhausted efforts for eustachian tubes,
swirled like whiffs of smoke about her head,
slid up the wall then slipped away.
And I never asked...
"Are you...?
Could you be...?
Do you ever feel that way?"
For all my love of vocabulary,
it pains me to think
I could have changed the future
with a question.
Mocked and goaded by obligatory phrases
to be spooned from uneaten casseroles
and pruned from peace lillies,
amid red roses and faces warped with pain,
I couldn't breathe
at the cemetary.
The air was thick with the ineffable.
The earth opened and I was crushed
beneath the weight of the word
I couldn't say.
Author notes
...so the word is "suicidal" - is that apparent? I was going to make the word (I couldn't say) the title, but I thought it would be too hackneyed. What do you think?
Also should I drop the phrase "at the cemetary" all together - or would that confuse the meaning?
I am always revising - any thoughts at all help. Thanks!
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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This is so beautiful, it just flows, I did need the ''cemetary'' in there
. It added more pathos and understanding
Best Regards david
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return the favor brought me here. How fitting...
thanks for comments on fond frustration. -
Wow, deep, profound...and yes words are everything, our life source, life and death in the power of the tongue, that is why we write. Excellent. Blessings.
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I understood without the notes...
At the cemetary ... who is your audience? the scene was obvious to me, but others, may need the help. It also anchors in concrete- the loss.
This pain- has the potential to do much good. Many who read may ask, because you bare your soul here. It is good that you do. It is hard to see the anguish of others, and have the will to press through the possible bad outcomes, or a protest to mind your own problems and still communicate the simple truth that you care, that you value that person and you will miss them terribly if they decide they cant face the agony anymore. I absolve you of any guilt. It is the least I can do. Shed the net of regret, glean the lesson she was struggling still to teach. Stay tender and teachable. Remember the good and tender times so eloquently expressed here. I'm on your side. -
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thank you, parenchma. i know you are. - Mary Jo
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Wow, powerful emotion, sad, makes you want to turn the page, and not knowing what to say anymore is painful. Well written. Blessings.
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