This Language That I Love

It limits us,
they said,
this language that you love.

(I couldn’t nod
or bear to tell them yes.)

We can’t say anything
if we haven’t got the words.

(But have you ever even tried,
and struggled with your tongue
to say and not just speak?)

There is just so much
that’s left unsaid …

(Because you never
search for it
in between the lines.)

… and so many things
that have no names.

(Let me ask –
does the world create the language,
or the other way around?)

It limits us,
they said.
But it frees me,
I responded,
this language that I love.


One thought on “This Language That I Love

  1. These Limits That We Love says:

    You school us: “Struggle with your tongues!”,
    Which by itself means language is a labour.
    And while the fruits of toil I do hold blessed,
    We must confess it’s water in our lungs.
    (Though you are less afflicted then the rest)

    It’s true your landscape guides us to the nest,
    When we go flying in the voids between the lines,
    But getting lost is half the fun and worth the price.
    The flights that are our own — I find the best!
    (I’d mourn them, were language more precise)

    Why should this be at odds, allow it to work twice.
    Acknowledge that it limits and that it is concise.
    Let’s love it for its freedom and treat it as life’s spice.
    (There, I am sure, are limits. Do try and go beyond)

    Liked by 1 person

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