I weep for words that will not dance,
That will not float on wings of thought,
But only thud on solid ground
I weep for songs I cannot sing
The phrases buzz like happy bees
That sting me and then fly away
I weep for souls I cannot touch
With tenderness and hope
Because I reach with crippled hands
I weep for gifts I cannot share
The addressee is marked “unknown”
And it comes back all soiled and torn
I weep because it’s all I know
When nothing blooms from what I plant
And barren soil is all I have to til
ljm
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 11:03 AM UTC
I weep for words that will not dance,
That will not float on wings of thought,
But only thud on solid ground
I weep for songs I cannot sing
The phrases buzz like happy bees
That sting me and then fly away
I weep for souls I cannot touch
With tenderness and hope
Because I reach with crippled hands
I weep for gifts I cannot share
The addressee is marked “unknown”
And it comes back all soiled and torn
I weep because it’s all I know
When nothing blooms from what I plant
And barren soil is all I have to til
ljm
As I read the wonderful things others write, I often break into tears because I want so much to write like that, and can't. I try and it comes out contrived and awkward. It's a terrible thing to be a singer without a voice. And please don't rush to tell me that's not true. I'm very aware of my limitations. Just let me cry for a little bit. I'll be OK again tomorrow.