Lost For Words
August 26, 2009 by hames-1977
Your face tells much
and the crooked lines circling
your eyes, expressionless
but I have found a meaning.
You began to speak
but I can’t hear until
that voice, suddenly, came
from nowhere. Sshhh. Quiet.
Keep calm. You wait-
for the one who sings the lullaby
to a child. Yes, you are a child
whose life will begin at forty.
And sleep will once again visit
to take away your silent screams
reverberating among these-
four corners of your reclusivity.
I have a hand that can grip
your shoulders from shaking disbelief.
The fears you have tried to put out
like a flame from a candle.
But no one said, it will go away
as easy, that one should get.
Only when that release of breath
would extinguish as a sign.
Your face tells much
not even a sound to decipher
the depth of words that was lost.
Searching for some kind of hope.
I searched for clue to untangle the mystery in your words but I got lost in their beauty.
The poem is intensely descriptive, painting a portrait of the muse in the mind and in the process reveals as much about the poet’s character ~ the gentle tone in your words gave this poem such a warm grip of reassurance.
The poem entices the reader to take a closer look at the muse never to miss the endearing details, yet the reader is drawn as much to the voice that claims of lost for words.
I wish you well.
~ Jeques
jeques,
honestly, i intend to write this poem for a friend, who told me that his days were numbered. but he had told me that i should not divulge his agony to others. he trusted me even in the brink of his despair, of how he questioned the meaning of it all. of life taken away such as that. his fears, i have intensely felt on this poem.
in the process, i found that there are no proper words that can fully describe what i feel, i plan to scrap this poem all together, but there is an inner voice that tells me that i should post it, as a reminder on how i try to get hold, rationalizing the fear of losing a friend to impending death. how my heart is wrenched into pieces, that no words could ever explain.
yeah, that voice maybe my muse, whose floodgates of tears is waiting there, burst in the open.
best of times,
marvin