Cracked Kettle

But not quite…

"Language is a cracked kettle on which we beat out tunes for bears to dance to, while all the time we long to move the stars to pity." - Gustave Flaubert

Thumbing through the thesaurus 

(and if that’s not alliteration, nothing is!)

I want the right word, words

That give meaning to the untenable. 

I sometimes circle-dance around an experience

And throw words at it

To see what sticks,

Ending up with kindas and sortas

Good, but not quite.

It’s as if I don’t really speak

This language,

At least not out loud.

My friend and her dog Willow came upon the body 

Of a newly dead cardinal.

She watched the dog inspect the bird

And as dogs experience the world 

Through their own reality

My friend searched this experience for insight

For the right words
To fathom the meaning
Through the eyes and nose of her dog.
“Tell me Willow, what do you know?”

What Willow knows can only be implied
And applied to the human experience;
Only loosely,
Wanting for words.

Beating on a cracked kettle, indeed.