I’ve heard it said that “words can only point to a feeling…”
can we ever really hear each other?
if I slip a word
beneath your door
could you read it?
stones
upon the shore, count
the skips one, two, three – more
then silence.
we hurtle
past each other
such a brief intersection
yet two lives may still
make a plane
walk with me
this weathered shore
and we might learn again
this language of stones.
one, two, three – more
then silence, dark waters,
winds and waves,
this hard, hard knowing
before words.
© 2015 jafink/oldbones.newsnow.com