Undefined

‘Undefined’ is the word,
as even the undefined must have a name.
It stands between you and me on a funeral,
then travels with us by train
on what will be
our last journey together;
it urges me to look further
over the flat landscape beyond the green,
between the green and the blue of the sky,
as your eyes are already touched by it:
the undefined that’s thickening the air,
smothering the intended caring gestures,
eating the words before they are spoken,
and I can’t bear to look your way.

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Comments on: "Undefined" (12)

  1. Beautiful, of course, and moving

  2. Intense and profound.

  3. “Eating the words before they are spoken”…is such a perfect phrasing of a true thing!

  4. Deeply heard and felt, thank you…

  5. There is strength in this poem, Ina, and truths that are eternal. Cynthia, as she often does, picks out the key, powerful line: “eating the words before they are spoken…” This seems to me to be central to our experience of being with the dead. The conversation is still there in our minds, but the words no longer have the meaning they once did. They are eaten, and we can’t bear to look at the person who is no longer there. This is powerful stuff.

    • Thank you once more Thomas for your encouraging comment. I am very fortunate that you take the time to go into the meaning of my poems!

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