Speechless by Leslie Banks

Frustrated and struggling to find words to convey my feelings, I took a trip back in time, reviewing the early poetry works of my 11- through 17-year-old self...

Through those years, words flowed so easily, and I depended on poetry and journaling to get through the tumultuous times of adolescence and some impacting changes in my life. But the words themselves were often inflated, now appearing melodramatic as I read the tales of heartache, love, and life. Not all, but many of the poems on paper were a stretch beyond what I was actually experiencing. Some were humorous, some scarily sad and depressing, while others were glowing with first-love embers. But all of them had something in common, and I had a revelation.

I realized my issues with writing started when my experiences and emotions began to reach far beyond what I could put into words. I felt as though I was on the other side of the looking glass, now on the grown-up side of life’s experiences when words fall so short of meaning.

Fifteen years ago, I felt sadness and heartache when my father died. But as I near more years without him in my life than we had together, “heartache” doesn’t scratch the surface. There are significant moments in life when a daughter needs her dad, and they don’t just stop happening because their time together has passed.

Ten years ago I started seeing a guy… from just two weeks in, I knew “boyfriend” was not sufficient to describe this man who became my partner and best friend. Four years ago, his title changed to “husband,” but even that only lasts until death, and I don’t believe my love for him will simply end with a breath.

Three years ago my first nephew was born, and I experienced awe and joy like nothing before him. In those moments of silence with a newborn, I discovered more than “joy” or any words could portray; he helped me see the substance in life and realize what carries no weight.

There are countless times when I’ve cherished my mom’s ability to see and know me like no one else can. But to “cherish” her seems superficial when she can see through to my soul… and also into the future enough times that her silence means “I told you so!”

I’ve tried to comfort myself through writing as I did in the past when it came effortlessly. At a loss for words, I felt frustrated and disappointed in myself. My revelation is that maybe I haven’t lost an ability to communicate my feelings; maybe I’ve gained an ability to feel beyond words.