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There are things which cannot be written.

They are the things which haunt us, the things we can only try to ignore and swat away like so many flies from diseased flesh.

They are the darknesses from which no echoes can reach, in or out, the sicknesses which nothing but time can fight.

They are the restless thrashings of the mind, though all outwardly be paralyzed and silent, the ghost hands which stretch but can neither touch nor grasp nor make their presence felt.

There are days which begin and end in deadness, during which whatever jolts of further anesthesia can be found are welcomed into apathetic veins.

These are the days when strength is its own reward, when strength is no reward.

There is knowledge that can beat you down like a hailstorm of logic, in the wake of whose stalwart certainty your rebellion is but a soon-exhausted flicker in the tempests.

It is the wisdom of surrender which mutes our cries of injustice, of dissent, of defiance. It is the recognition of our helplessness to do any better than we’ve done, to change any path that we’ve set.

For if there were words to be written that could set things back to rights, apologies that would mean anything, oaths to be taken or reasons to explain, we would give them. But we know it’s futile anyway.

And so there are struggles of which we cannot make an end, have no power to disrupt the laws of reason. There are times which we must feel the fullness of our pain, without recourse to soothing remedies of speech. There are things which we know but cannot say.

There are things which cannot be written.


10 thoughts on “Eulogy

  1. Good poem, well crafted. But I would love to see more, a longer version, prose poem or such. This is tantalising, though, and I really would love to read more.

      • Oh, it’s definitely complete. But I don’t know… it seems to point toward something big, something beside itself. I’ve read it aome five times now and I keep hoping for more. It’s contradictory… I think you say exactly what you had to say but in such a way that I want you to say more. In other words, it’s quite good and I needed to read that this morning.

      • And that’s why I like it, why I had to write it, and why it’s complete. To go into any further detail would defeat the purpose- without any specific examples, you and everyone else knows exactly what I mean. I wouldn’t cheapen it with my own examples, but we all know what those things are for each of us.
        This is a frustrated exhalation, at once resigned and rebellious, and certainly contradictory- a crafted way to express exactly while not completely what cannot be written.
        In short, I like it.

  2. Things that can’t be said, you say, but you have said them. I know exactly what you are talking about, and we are all burdened with the same things. Some of us have more language to express what is essentially the human condition. Well done.

  3. Powerful and lovely. (Silly addendum: the joke that leapt to my mind as I was reading it: “Oh, so you’re getting ready to do your taxes, too!”)

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