Sea glass

Some words have been sitting on the very edge of my mind, like sea glass among river-stones. (write). I have seen the muted green of the words as if from a distance. I know they are there to be put down. The seas of my mind have finally pushed these, little blue/green parcels out. They are worn from being thought over — how to say them, and can I not? Silence becomes more simple than venerability in a fast paced world where no one knows anyone.

So, that’s what I am naming my daughter, in hopes that she will find it more simple to merely say the truth she knows out loud — to people who have earned it. “Venerability” will be her middle name (secret, covered by a word from a different kind of language) as much as “Grace” has always been my first.

I prefer language when it is underlying, I do not speak well in the blunt — leave me to study semantics and speak to you in such a way that you will know the extra meaning. Don’t make me allude, just understand. If I were mute, we would still know each other.

Everything I have to say seems presumptuous.

In the beginning there was nothing — or maybe it was something — and anyway, it doesn’t matter because what is absolute is that at some point there wasn’t.
Then there was.

When God said “let there be light” (and it came) did he only mean the presence of wavelengths and particles? Could he not have also meant “allow this to see me” and later “let the humans understand (be illuminated?)”. Surely he knew, days later, that when he called birds into being that they, too, would hold a multi-meaning.  Did he not know that he was defining freedom to those who were connected to the ground? Did he not, too, speak into existence the desire for it — the symbols of peace — idioms in every language.

Within language, every word we say sends a thousand possible meanings into the air around it. Somehow, it is still incredibly limited. Surely God, who speaks beyond language, says and means a thousand different things — beyond our comprehension — with every whisper to our soul.

Still, the gems left on the sands of my mind get taken back by the tide. One day they will be written.
These words were not those.

 

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