Language
for my sons Christopher and Alexander, both autistic
It is seldom precise
mostly akin to failure
stricken with desires
to communicateIt is thirsty for words
wrapping sense and sensibility
in tiny fragments of meaning
tinier still in meaningfulnessIt strives to carry us
to unknown places of want
lets us roam open landscapes
on broken fields of dreamsIt is hungry for the storm
to sail through myriads of thoughts
break from old and tradition
and find its fantasies aloftIt is constantly longing
to fill our insatiable minds
to bring us closer to a truth
we never meant to feel insideYet it is hardly ever
meeting our immediate needs
leaving us in perplexity
while we grasp for rootsIt is blatantly indeterminant
in its terror and its beauty
longing to drift with the wind
while trembling in the softest breezeLanguage is and remains above all
a permanent reminder to everyone
of its limitations to portray reason
and its inability to capture reality.