In Moments Like These...

Nothing Comes Out

I have these moments

When I feel my words pushing,

Digging at my skin,

Begging to come out,

So I can know,

So I can feel,

So I can see a little more

Of what is real.

I feel these words

Just underneath my skin,

But all too often

They won’t flow out,

They simply won’t begin.

Maybe it’s kind of like

These words are in a language

I haven’t learned yet,

So I feel them,

I know they are there,

But I can’t reach them,

I can’t release them,

I can’t let them

Fall onto the paper

Lying in front of me,

Pen at the ready.

Nothing comes out;

They just crawl through

My muscles and bones

Waiting, pushing, wanting.

In these moments,

Words all stopped up,

When my heart is aching to be heard,

I have to find another way

To hear, to see, to understand.

Can I be still enough

To hear anything

Beyond my own meager words?

Can I be present enough

To hear what’s already

Being spoken all around me,

The poetry, the dance, the music

In all that I see?

Can I let it all speak to me,

Let go of my need

To find my own words,

Set aside my paper and pen

To let all that is outside

Become part of my inside,

Learn a new language

So I can hear,

So I can see,

So I can understand

These words that are pushing,

Begging to come out?

Can I find it in myself

To partake fully of these moments,

To transform the truth

That lives around me

Into the witness

That flows out through me

So I can know,

So I can feel,

So I can see a little more

Of what is real?