“There are intangible realities which float near us, formless and without words; realities which no one has thought out, and which are excluded for lack of interpreters.” -
Natalie Clifford Barney
Words float in the space between two sets of deep brown eyes staring at one another almost nose to nose. In the muted glow of the bedside lamp, a cold black nose buries itself in long tendrils of hair smelling the essence of the woman she adores. She in turn, smiles and wraps her arms around the warm fur of the pup and pulls her close in an embrace. Quiet serenity rises to the surface of connection and floats on the dim cascades of light dust upward – spreading out beyond words.
A woman sits in the midst of flood debris on a kitchen chair in her yard, chin cradled in the palm of her hand. Heartbreak etches lines across her features, weighing her shoulders weary. The heavy sigh that escapes chokes in a spiral of clay and mud becoming airborne. I watch for a moment more as the car drives past and will words to strengthen and float on hope. In quiet defiance she still breathes. Words float between strangers in the intervals of reality.
A light chill kisses tender lips as they breathe in the crisp evening. Waves of cotton strata weave a cloak across the fading skyline. Bombast green leaves are red rimmed losing defiance against the coming autumn. My nose wrinkles at the cloying smell of crabapples rotting beneath heavy limbs. Before long deer will arrive and strip the foliage of the remaining fruit. I wrap the grandfather sweater tighter around me like a glove as if that alone could squeeze the words forth - words which quietly simmer in the silence, cloaked in my safe haven of fortunate.
Words float intangible, touching down on lives we’ve lived, spaces we’ve been, and memories which either soothe or strangle. They exist in between one heart beat and another, in second hesitations between breathing and holding on. Sometimes even writers can’t possibly interpret these passages floating down upon them in a space of a few words. We can’t dispute the essence which quivers on the tips of our tongues and leaves us mute. This knowledgeable existence of words is formless and entwined, paused amid moments.
The lexis between you and I, our unspoken vocabulary - spent a summer marinating in wisdom, speculation, and life. My words are adrift; here’s to hoping they find a delicate landing between my brown eyes and yours like the warm fur of a gentle pup.
*Dedicated to all the people in the neighboring area who recently lost homes and livelihoods in the Upstate NY floods. May your grace and courage continue to outshine the debris. - Indigo
Picture found here