Poetry
No Words
--
How do I tell you when I’ve lost the will…
How do I tell you
When I’ve lost the will to move
Lips, tongue, teeth, finger-
Tips tapping, trying not to fall
Dead as doornails —
Fingernails —
Claws clenched,
Like teeth straining
Not to loose the scream —
The gutteral, never-ending, heart-rending
Cry that rages up from where
No words exist.
How do I tell you
That I’ve lost the will to move
Legs, lungs, hands, arms, eye
Lids, shuttered windows to the weary
Soul — shattered —
Squinched shut
Against the cheerful mourning
Light-defying darkness, black abyss —
A howling, screeching vortex —
Fast-track to a void where
No life exists.
How do I tell you
That I’ve lost the will to move
Head, breasts, shoulders, one left
Foot. Whispered word-music fails
To animate the right, as we trip together —
Listless, spent — exhausted
Zombies, clomping through the night.
To think, when morning comes —
We’ll do it all again, that mindless,
Repetitious motion. No!
It really is too much — to live where
Thought cannot exist.
Holly Jahangiri is the author of Trockle; A Puppy, Not a Guppy; and A New Leaf for Lyle. She draws inspiration from her family, from her own childhood adventures (some of which only happened in her overactive imagination), and from readers both young and young at heart. She lives in Houston, Texas, with her husband, J.J., whose love and encouragement make writing books twice the fun.
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