Oh, God, if only you might give me the words …

A // W // F

… to speak the song the cicadas are singing —
that murmur and hum filling the trees.
But their song is wholly their own,
and no matter what words I use,
mine would only be a poor copy —
and why bother to copy such a thing,
when anyone can go out on a summer night
and sit spellbound to the sound
of the original?

But oh, God — I beseech you —
we have stopped hearing it.
A thousand nights these voices sing for us,
their words worn-out white noise,
the meaning lost like a long-ago first language,
so that in the song we hear no language at all.
And, oh, God, if you might give me the words,
perhaps I might shake us out of deafness,
so we might stand stunned under the canopy:
silent to it.  Listening.

Oh, teach me to sing it:
a hundred thousand voices
whirling wild in the trees,
filling the green air
with buzzing vibrato,
crying out over and over:
Love me, Love me —
the summer is short,
this life is so brief …
oh, love me while you can —
You!  Yes, you ––
while my body can still sing,
still love, and sunlight still
spangles the branches …

Which I guess is the same song
we’re all singing,
after all.

❤

8 Comments

  2. Ashley – this is beautiful. Simply beautiful…

    “And, oh, God, if you might give me the words,
    perhaps I might shake us out of deafness,
    so we might stand stunned under the canopy:
    silent to it. Listening.”

    Wonderful!

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Thank you, lady … I’m so glad you enjoyed. Sometimes I think I’m such a crazy loon, I seriously wonder what people think of me. 🙂 But it makes me happy to know others find some peace and loveliness here. ❤

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