Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Unspoken Word

All of my thoughts
of you
take
the forms
of
poetry and prose
and
I find myself
wanting
to fill a notebook
with
those words
so
that I can wrap them
up
stick them in the mail
and
send you
to
yourself
we can call it
a
housewarming gift

some vibrations
run
through
the body freely
but
defy the hand
that
holds pen to paper
because
you
cannot capture
transcendence

and
I can't stop
thinking
about how you
told
me you wanted
another
salt soaked
embrace
and
I want to hear
the things
that
make you cry
the
ways your heart
has
broken
the
ache you carry
but
I think you
should know that
I
will only spend time
swimming
in your tears
if
at the end of it all
I
can bring you joy
watch
you
slay your dragons
kill
and put to rest
the
old stories
so
that when people ask,
"What
did you do this weekend?"
I
can tell them,
"I went swimming
in
the Dead Sea."

I want
to
count your
ribs
and learn
the
cadence
of your
heart
so
that if the need
should
arise
I can identify
you
in the dark

I'd like to tell
you
that I first
found
you
eleven
years
before we met
while
giving
birth
in that split
second
when the pain
became
unbearable
and
I came
and came
and
came
I screamed
out
something
I
am sure
was
your name
while
on the other
side
of the country
you
were sipping your
morning
tea
and
turned you head,
saying
"I
thought
I heard something.
Strange."

There
is
not
a language
for
the
paradoxical
feelings
of deep
peace
and coming
undone
of melting
into
your arms
we
are one

that's why
I call
this
form
of poetry

Unspoken
Word

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