How are you?
Her answer is always simply
“I’m fine, thank you.
But she never spoke of the Shadow,
The weight of Nothing that stops her lips
From articulating some Fear she knows
She feels, but knows not from which cell it spawned.
For speech is as inadequate
As people are at empathy.
She wants to say, sing, shout – be heard.
But words can offer no pity;
Lifeless symbols cannot capture
The sense of beings and things.
So she smiles and it looks pretty – good –
Though our eyes don’t meet. A gentle plea
Escapes her prison of resolve:
A soft cry for companionship –
For any one comprehending soul
To listen to the flood of words tumbling
Out of locked jaws in – ineffable silence.
I shrugged and wished that I could understand.
Then said, I’m fine – too.