Speak

I wish I could speak with my hands

And have you touch this life I have wrapped in my feeling.

Meaning, always, seems like a struggle with my tongue;

my sincerity all gets lost in that distance

lingering between my mind and my voice.

Somewhere along this heartache of life,

somewhere between all the pointless signs,

this sadness and the next—

there was someone I wanted,

lost by the wayside.

And to her,

There is so much I would have said.

I wanted to say

There is no winter that dampens life

as when something covers your smile.

There is no mountain that carries its burdens

the way you lift your world.

I wanted you to know

that there is no space so vast

to be wider than the expanse you opened in my heart

for you.

And when I look at my hands, shy and unspeaking,

and I think about all the people who

I never reach and have forgotten,

I worry that one day

after all these words my mouth could not create

I might forget you as well.