silently

(on situational mutism)

A blank space rots in the air between us
  infinite and finite
words screaming behind the dam of my teeth,
  incoherent 

they are the language of oceans,
  the murmuration of birds, twisting and swelling,
    the slide of earth that makes mountains
and canyons

they are the chanting of my heart,
  the utterances of my flesh;
they are the thrashing of a drowning story beneath
  a paralyzed tongue

and all I can do
is break
like a wave
against stone walls

while my hands tremble
silently
in yours.

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Hey, thanks for reading.

This is an experience I’ve struggled to express. It doesn’t tend to translate into words well (unironically), particularly when explaining it to folks who’ve never experienced it. If you’ve felt similarly to what I’ve described in this poem, just know that you’re not alone.

Love,
Katy

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