Author, Poet, Photographer
Words aren’t enough, the common tongue
judged useless to expunge our deepest grief.
Yet what else have we?
Music perhaps, gestures, grunts, touches
of cold comfort?
Rage exhausts itself, searching vainly
for some culprit.
We return to words and find them wanting.
Trusting others to know enough
to know just how we feel.
Continuing to mouth our vain attempts
to tame the savagery of loss.
Words aren’t enough we know.
We know, we know not what to say.
Yet speak and keep on speaking.
In the end; it’s all we know.
© James Rainsford