Ineffable

Originally published in The Road Not Taken, Vol. 3, No. 3
Republished in Volume One, December 9, 2013

In English, we have words for everything:
Names and tidy labels stain our lives,
Brand each moment with a familiar ring.
Beneath the letters, something else survives—
An ancient rhythm, resonating deep
That has no syllables, no metric scheme,
Spoken by infants and those fast asleep.
Show me in your Webster’s what can redeem
A tiny casket, how it feels to drown.
Describe the imperfection of a kiss,
Why many children are afraid of clowns,
Why his bad jokes are what you miss.
Defensively, we churn out words each day
To mask the fear of what we cannot say.