Beep.
Waiting for a message that cannot find its way
from brain to muscles
that connect to sounds we know to be
recognizable words with understood context.
They elude, slipping and sliding
they have no legs
slithering in the muck of misunderstanding
those words that manage to escape from my mouth are heard,
but baffle.
Battling it out for recognition are the silent thoughts that are not
“you need to take a turn to share
“you have to wait our turn
“you want to go fast?
“you have to share”
Words, words and more words.
She has language they say, but the language she shouts is not a language at all
buffering frustration, relieving anxiety, clouding meaning
I’d whisper if I could
but I can’t.
Emma's Hope Book 