After Thought
for those who's words arrive with effort
Like a shadow waiting on light to be born,
some words wait in the chest,
the way colors wait in the dark --
unseen, but not absent.
Some get tangled --
delayed --
lodged between thought and tongue.
Vowels bend; consonants refract,
like light through a prism --
cast only into colors that muscles remember.
Intent,
still there --
just not as intended.
Scattered iridescence,
with consistent inconsistency.
Lungs rise like a curtain.
Air climbs the spine
as language descends.
Movements mapped and memorized --
willing the tongue to hit its mark.
A ritual rehearsed in the wings.
Through choreographed lips,
sound alights --
shadowed by the fear
of being almost understood.
for those who's words arrive with effort
Like a shadow waiting on light to be born,
some words wait in the chest,
the way colors wait in the dark --
unseen, but not absent.
Some get tangled --
delayed --
lodged between thought and tongue.
Vowels bend; consonants refract,
like light through a prism --
cast only into colors that muscles remember.
Intent,
still there --
just not as intended.
Scattered iridescence,
with consistent inconsistency.
Lungs rise like a curtain.
Air climbs the spine
as language descends.
Movements mapped and memorized --
willing the tongue to hit its mark.
A ritual rehearsed in the wings.
Through choreographed lips,
sound alights --
shadowed by the fear
of being almost understood.
|
For my daughter --
a vibrant mind whose words have been shaped through the quiet labor of processing, intention, motor planning, vulnerability, and persistence. For those whose words arrive with effort -- who might roam the unlit corridors where words are born, delayed, rerouted, or swallowed. And, for those whose efforts arrive in words -- who light the torches and reveal the thresholds. |